Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl
by Aina Song
Summary: It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.
1. Thank You

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter One - Thank You**

He was loitering outside the door of Arias' chapel when she found him. The youngest of their party, usually so bright and bubbly, looked so unlike herself that Albel Nox could only stare as she approached. Her clothes were spattered with mud. One of her shoes was missing its overly large bell. Her soft white hair had fallen loose from both its ridiculous pigtails and was matted with dirt, and tears were still streaking through the dirt on her face. She held one hand to her upper arm; thin trails of blood were spilling from between her fingers.

"The village children didn't like me," Peppita Rossetti offered in meager explanation. "They said I was… different."

He narrowed his dark red eyes, wondering briefly why she would come to him before any of the others. Wordlessly he pushed away from the frame of the door, took her by her other arm, and led her into the chapel. The building was always empty at this time of day; even the priest had gone home to visit his family and prepare for the evening Mass. Albel sat her down on the front pew - "Don't move." - and then raided the back of the chapel until he found what he needed. Returning, he set an offering dish and three skin pouches of holy water on the pew beside her then rounded to her other side and gently pried her wounded arm from her grip.

With an old towel and the first of the pouches, he cleansed and inspected the scratch. Minor, but cut deep enough to scare on first glance. He poured more of the water over it to be certain it was properly cleansed, then tore the towel into a long strip and used it to bandage her arm. Handing her that pouch and another towel, he let her wash the dirt from her legs and arms and face. He then had her lower her head over the offering dish, and he slowly poured the remaining water over her hair, carefully working out the dirt and matted knots until he was able to pass the fingers of his good hand through it without trouble. He had brought with him a third towel, which he draped over her still-muddy shoulders before letting her sit back once more.

Taking up the dish of dirtied water and other items, he motioned with his head for her to follow into the back of the chapel. She stood in the doorway of a small room while he dumped the water out an open window. Finding a simple white gown that was probably three sizes too big for her delicate frame, he suggested she wrap her hair in the towel to shelter it from the mud still on her clothes while she changed, then closed the door behind him.

When she emerged, Albel found himself staring once more. In the gown, with her white hair brushing her shoulders, and eyes that were so silvery blue they were nearly unfathomable - she might very well have passed for a holy child herself. Shaking his head to clear it of such an unbidden thought, he went into the back room, gathered her things into a large hide sack and led her out of the chapel.

Crossing the dirt road, he dropped the sack off at the inn with orders for its contents to be mended and awaiting Miss Rossetti's return. He then took her hand and brought her to the weapons/outfitter's shop, where he asked her in front of the owner what was her favorite color.

"Black," Peppita replied instantly.

The shop owner was not the only one taken by surprise.

A hint of pink flushed her copper face. "In the circus, just before a performance, the stage would always go completely dark. I'd be unable to see a thing. But that never stopped me from getting so excited about what was to come that my heart would start pounding in my ears." She shrugged, glancing aside. "Black… reminds me of that feeling."

Nodding, Albel turned back to the owner. He could sense the young girl's stare as he gave very detailed instructions as to size, design, and material. He dropped several gold coins upon the counter for the advance. The shop owner had been listening to the order with steady diligence, copying them down on a sheet of parchment to prevent mistakes, then excused himself for a handful of minutes. When he returned, it was with his daughter, who nodded in greeting before quickly hanging a dark curtain across one corner of the shop for privacy. She then motioned to Peppita, who glanced at Albel for confirmation before following behind the curtain. Though his specifics were accurate to the letter, it was still a demand of their profession to check measurements before cutting materials, and therefore took another hour before the desired results were met.

Albel was leaning his back against a wall with his gauntleted arm resting atop his sheathed katana when the shop owner's daughter led Peppita back to his side. His eyebrow arched, the only sign of his reaction to how she looked now.

She wore a thin, sleeveless turtleneck beneath a billowy low-cut blouse with full sleeves that hung off her elbows. A slim belt caught the waist of her blouse, with a delicate but intricately carved buckle. The shorts were gone, replaced by snug tights that stopped three full inches below her knees. Her too-large shoes were now small but strong boots with a better fit, able to brace her heels and ankles whilst she danced without fear of a sprain. The heavy cuffs around her wrists which had anchored the giant ribbon draped behind her back were no more. She now wore daintier bangles that would not weigh down her arms, and the ribbon itself was now a number of thin triple-coil ropes - each with its own marble-sized bell dangling from its ends.

As promised, black was the theme. Everything, from her sweater and blouse, down to her boots and ropes. Black. But to compliment their darkness, her blouse had been thinly lined with silver thread. The bangles were silver, too, as well as every one of the countless bells she was already admiring.

And she still wore her hair down. So, in all, her presence now was subtly dramatic. Something he suspected one such as she might appreciate.

"Here," Albel spoke, lifting his good hand. While she had been outfitted, he had on a whim made yet another purchase.

She whispered her stunned gratitude, accepting the silver chain necklace and carefully securing it around the base of her throat. Her fingers played a moment with the tiny golden bell which hung from the necklace, and she thanked him once more while he paid the shop owner the remaining cost for materials used.

When they exited the shop, they saw that the sun had already begun to set. Albel knew that the girl preferred an early dinner and so, feeling oddly generous, he took her to a newly opened grocer shop and ordered for her a small meal.

They sat together on the floor in a back corner of the shop, he watching silently as she ate. She did not try to talk his ear off, like she would with their other party members, nor did she appear bored with his reluctance to start a conversation of his own. On the contrary, she seemed quite comfortable with the quiet and made no effort to disturb it.

Near the meal's end, Albel realized with a start what it was she was doing. Ever since he had corrupted those off-worlders' plans to mess with _his_ prey at the training facility, the other members of their party had none-too-subtly tried to befriend him. Going out of their way to pretend to understand him, so that he might better accept each of them. They were often so ridiculously obvious at it that the whole thing had become very annoying. He was almost literally snarling at them on a regular basis just to keep them at bay.

But Peppita Rossetti, this very young teenage girl, understood immediately what they could not get through their thick skulls. He had but one thing in common with them; the goal to stop this "creator," this Owner, before all was lost. That was it. In all other ways, he was completely different from them, did things according to his own plan, and liked to keep it that way. So the young dancer did not barrage him with pointless questions (Sophia), did not make suggestions to "better" his personality (Maria), or even invite him to go Convictor hunting (Cliff and Mirage).

In short, she was doing effortlessly what those other fools could not do if he had spelled it out for them. She was letting him be who he was, and giving him the chance to some day accept the same of her.

Which he was rapidly finding himself willing to do. Some day.

~o~

Their absence had not gone unnoticed. Albel had entered the inn first and so, naturally, it was he the rest of the party bombarded with their curiosity.

"Where the hell have you been," Cliff Fittir demanded loudly. "We've been looking for you all day!"

He doubted that very much, and said so. Arias was a pitifully small village, and had very few nooks and crannies in which to hide. He'd tried.

"If you had something to do or somewhere to go, you might have told us." Maria Traydor that time, with another one of her oh-so-helpful suggestions. "We wouldn't have tried to stop you."

"No," Albel agreed. "You would've insisted on joining me. So I didn't bother."

Sophia Esteed pushed between them, stepping forth to grip his good arm in both her hands, her bottom lip trembling. "We can't find Peppita anywhere! Someone we asked said some kids were picking on her and had chased her away. Have you seen her?"

"Of course he has," the dancer herself answered, coming at last through the door. "How couldn't he?"

The lobby fell swiftly quiet, as all stared at her black attire. Her smile was as bright as the sun as she absorbed their shocked expressions; there was nothing a circus performer enjoyed better than remaining unpredictable. Finally Cliff cleared his throat, tossing Albel an accusatory glance. "Tell me that wasn't your idea…"

He was not given the chance to defend himself, for Peppita immediately set her hands to her hips and huffed indignantly. "Don't start on him! I happened to have some extra money saved up, and I thought I'd try a new look. In fact, the first time I've seen Albel all day was when we bumped into each other near one of the village exits."

Albel tried not to let his reaction to her words show. That was the first he had ever seen her lie, and she'd done it so flawlessly. But even more surprising… if the rest of the their party had learned of his efforts to salve her broken heart and stitch her wounded pride, the list of questions would have gone on for miles. Without missing a beat, her fabrication had cut it short. And, judging from her posture and that smile hidden behind her indignation, she well knew it.

Smart kid.

They were immediately apologizing and complimenting her clothes, and he left them to it. He silently found his way to the back of the room, where he leaned his back to the wall and watched them dote on their youngest companion.

"Well done," a voice whispered near his ear.

He swung his dark red gaze to the side before bringing it forward once more. "What are you talking about," he hissed.

Leaning against the wall beside him with arms and ankles crossed, a slow smirk on his face, Fayt Leingod did not look his way so as to seem to be merely thinking aloud. "Being outcast from the other children would have upset her a great deal," he quietly pointed out. "Though you almost went too far with such an expensive necklace. Peppita hates spending too much money on herself, outside an emergency."

Slow smirk still in place, he left the wall then to join the others across the lobby, leaving Albel to stare at their unofficial leader as though seeing him for the first time. How often was the blue-haired fool going to be able to catch him off-guard like that?

~o~

A week or more had passed, and Peppita's new attire became her permanent look. And though she never bothered him with the update, Albel could tell that she was drawing a stronger sense of confidence from the color she held so dear. They soon arrived in the next town, called Peterny, and she seemed unconcerned with the thought of encountering more children that would distrust her.

Early one evening, that whiny mage Sophia was once again frantic with worry. Peppita had disappeared. This time, however, Albel was sitting alone in a dark corner of the inn's lobby and so escaped Cliff's suspicion. A search party was put together, in which he refused to join, much to their annoyance. The party was split four ways, so that every corner of the small city could be searched all the way to the exits and even outside.

Twenty minutes passed, and Albel looked up as the door to the inn swung open. Fayt Leingod stood there, meeting his gaze with a slow smirk and motioning for Albel to follow. Suspecting the rest of their group was being excluded for a reason, the garnet-eyed warrior rose to his feet. He let himself be led into the city plaza, and then Fayt cocked his head toward the chapel with a silent warning to remain very quiet as his hands pulled one of the giant doors partially open.

Frowning at Fayt's knowing look, Albel peeked in. And stared.

Inside the chapel it was dark. Every available surface was littered with small candles inside glass red cups, which gave the chapel's large gathering room an ethereal glow. From high above the chapel doors, its single stained glass window poured soft light in every color imaginable upon the center of the floor.

And that was where he found Peppita. She had taken off her silver bangles with their many ropes and jingling bells, and her boots. Only the single tiny bell dangling from the necklace she was never without chimed ominously as she twirled slowly about under the multicolored flow of light. Her head was tilted back, her dark and doe-like eyes closed as she danced, never once straying beyond the colorful circle. On her face was an expression of such serenity, that Albel was nearly stricken by it.

Behind him, Fayt gently pushed at the small of Albel's back, wordlessly urging him forth. Glaring back at the blue-haired warrior, he shook his head. But the other would not take 'no' for an answer. Smirk widening, Fayt lightly shoved him through the partially open doorway and followed after him.

They remained near the door, neither wishing to interrupt the obvious joy their youngest teammate found in her solemn dance. She moved in a slower reenactment of one of her hyper battle dances. With every twirl, she had somewhere specific to place her feet; with every arch of her back, there was reason for one or both her hands to reach up toward the unseen sky. Unbridled bliss streamed from her closed eyes, catching the colored light if they were flung from her face as she spun.

Albel was so taken aback by the sight before him, he did not hesitate to acknowledge again the unbidden thought that she resembled an angel. _A dark angel_, he corrected himself, identifying with the mournful undertones of her dance which might easily have been mistaken for some ritualistic prayer.

"Dance with me," she whispered gleefully, though it did not appear that her eyes had opened long enough to spy their intrusion.

He glanced over his shoulder to determine who she meant, but their oh-so-loyal leader had apparently disappeared again. Unknowing as to what lured his feet forth, Albel silently approached the circle of multicolored light. She paused mid-twirl, blinking her eyes open and stretching her hand out in invitation. On her face was inscribed such sincerity, he never once thought she might be baiting him.

This was a piece of herself, hidden far beneath the playfulness, and she was offering to share it with only one other.

Him.

He untied his sword's belt from around his hips and set it aside on the nearest pew, then let his good hand slowly catch her reaching fingers. Her hand lightly clasped around his, and she gently pulled him into her circle. She fearlessly brought the claws of his gauntlet to the small of her back, looking up at him with open trust as she repositioned his good hand around hers and then rested her other hand almost weightlessly atop his gauntleted arm.

At first, she merely led him in a very slow and simple spinning circle, her eyes never leaving his as his feet instinctively found where next to fall. This lasted for several minutes, as the light pouring down upon them shifted slowly upward and carefully darkened from its bright rainbow enigma into a multifaceted shade of varying blues, evidence of the setting sun. Peppita effortlessly helped them both to follow under the light as she patiently waited for the hesitancy to dissolve from his steps. Then she altered their dance, bringing a just a bit of speed and life to their spinning, confident that he could follow now without falter.

And Albel stared at her all the while, never even noticing the ease that seemed to flow with the movements she now was wordlessly demanding of him. From the sudden quirk of her smile, he knew without asking when to bring his clawed gauntlet from the small of her back and raise their clasped hands so that she could twirl beneath his arm, and he kept his feet moving in the almost familiar pattern taught him to keep their dance in rhythm. Her silvery blue eyes were radiating her joy as she brought herself again within the circle of his arms, new tears streaming unabashedly down her cheeks as she praised him with her smile.

Whatever song that only she could hear seemed soon to draw to its end, for after the light from the stained glass window began to fade as it climbed the far wall, she let him spin her beneath his arm once more before concluding the twirl with a low curtsy that had her sinking to the floor. With his good hand still clasped in her own, this last movement gently tugged his arm so that he followed it in a subtle bow.

After another moment, she straightened to her feet and released his hand. Silently and without looking at him, she gathered her things and returned them to her person with practiced ease. Only after she had checked that every rope and bell was in place did she turn again to him and offer a tenuous little smile. So swiftly that her bells could barely sing with the movement, she swept over to his side and stretched onto her toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Before she whirled about and fled from the chapel, she whispered near his ear, her voice catching with some lingering emotion.

"Thank you…"


	2. Her Daughter

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter Two - Her Daughter**

"Albel."

Jarred from the last remnants of peace that had fled more slowly than had the dancer, the warrior swung his garnet glare to the left, where Fayt extricated himself from the shadows of a dark corner. All hints of mockery had fled from the younger swordsman's deep green eyes, replaced by something that had Albel questioning its existence.

"What," he growled.

But the other seemed suddenly reluctant to voice what had been on his mind; his gaze lowered, his head turned a bit to the side, and even his posture lost some of its confidence. "I…"

"What," Albel insisted a second time, his fiery red eyes narrowing. "Isn't this why you brought me here? For the opportunity to take my dignity down a peg by pointing out that I'd just indulged the whims of a child?"

That got a reaction. Jerking his head up, Fayt glared at him. And Albel could this time identify the hurt in those impossibly green eyes. "I hoped you knew me better than that by now. I've never insulted you, even when we were enemies. And as for Peppita…" Here, he broke off, and that first something that Albel still could not recognize had returned those eyes. "Peppita denounced what was left of her childhood the day she asked to join us…"

~o~

_The hem of her gown flew about her lower calves as she spun, her smile and eyes sparkling under the moonlight, her laughter ringing amongst the stars._

_But then the skies darkened. And she was running, running as fast as her delicate feet could carry her, the blood-stained skirt of her gown whipping about her legs as she faded into the stormy night._

"_I'm sorry…"_

He came awake with a start, the sheets sliding down his bare chest as he sat quickly up with a gasp for new air. His head was pounding, and his throat and chest were tingling beneath a sheen of cooling sweat. His left arm pulsed with remembered pain, and he held his good hand to it with an irritated grimace, knowing the return of his least favorite nightmare the cause of his hurt.

The door to his room slammed open.

Swiftly he turned his head. It was Fayt, barefoot in simple night pants, his mop of blue hair tousled as though he himself had been jarred from sleep. Narrowing his fiery eyes at the uninvited guest, he demanded, "What the hell are _you_ doing here, fool?"

The younger swordsman panted for a handful of seconds; apparently he had run down the long corridor separating Albel's door from his own. "Peppita," he finally got out. "Bad dream… Asking for you."

Were it anyone else, he would have shown them his back and gone straight back to sleep. But it was the dancer girl. And so he threw the sheets aside and stood, quickly tossing on his small tank top and tying his heavy skirt about his waist before following the other youth out the door.

It seemed the youngest of their party was currently sharing a room with their worthless mage, as Sophia was sitting on the end of Peppita's bed when they came in. Albel immediately snapped at her to get lost; she was not needed or wanted there. It seemed she still harbored some small amount of fear of him, for she did not hesitate to leave the room in a hurry. Fayt quietly closed the door behind her, but stayed where he was and did not venture further into the room. Which left Albel to cross the room alone and sit upon the space that Sophia had just vacated. With more patience and gentleness than he would let the others of their party witness of him, he called out her name.

There was a single window between the two beds in the room, with a lit candle sitting upon the center of its ledge. By this meager light he watched as she peeked out from beneath the edge of her blanket, her silvery blue eyes large and wet with tears. His heart twisted unexpectedly within his chest when he realized she was wearing as her nightdress the simple white gown he had stolen for her from Arias' chapel. Her gaze searched the room until at last it fell upon the dark warrior sitting on the foot of her bed. Without bothering to move the covers out of her way, Peppita threw herself into Albel's lap, the bell from her necklace tinkling with the movement as she wrapped her arms around his sides and buried her face into the front of his tank top, her tears beginning anew.

She did not sob uncontrollably like Sophia, or loudly blame others for her misery like Maria. She but clung tightly to him, her small frame trembling as she wept silently for whatever pain her nightmare had set upon her. Albel lowered his gaze, studying her in a long moment's quiet surprise before carefully wrapping his good arm around her shoulders and offering her the embrace she would not ask for.

Several long minutes passed before her trembling ceased, and longer still before he was convinced she would not start up again. But then he felt one of her arms slowly move away from his side, and fingertips traced lightly down the length of his left forearm. The touch was gentle, minding the countless burn scars that marred his skin, yet he flinched and hissed through his teeth as though her curiosity had set fire to his entire arm.

She quickly drew her fingers back, and after another moment her arm returned to his side. And she whispered, "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," was his low reply. Then he found himself softly adding, "But not because of you. It's an old hurt, that likes to torment me sometimes with its memory."

"Oh…" She shifted slightly, settling more comfortably against his other side with an almost inaudible yawn. "I hope it leaves you alone someday. You deserve better."

Her whispered sentiment took him by great surprise. She seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. In less than a minute, her breathing had evened out, and he was stunned that she had trusted him enough to fall asleep again in his arms. Looking up, he caught Fayt watching them from across the room with that same unreadable look from before. But the blue-haired youth quickly turned his gaze away, masking his expression in the shadows of the room that the single candle could not reach.

His fiery red eyes narrowing, Albel ignored the younger swordsman for the moment and returned his attention to the small-framed dancer in his arms. With more care than he could remember practicing on anything else, he slowly shifted so that he could return her to her pillow. She immediately curled to her side with a tiny sigh, and he gently tugged the covers free of her legs to let them fall again over her shoulder. Delicate fingers caught his unmarred wrist as he turned away, and he looked down to find she had startled herself awake, traces of fear already flooding her silvery blue eyes.

"You're not the only female sharing the room," he softly answered that look, before he could give in to it. "I'd as soon not give those fools another reason to question my honor."

"They won't," Fayt suddenly assured from across the floor. "I'll lie for you, say we saw someone try to break in through the window or something, and it unnerved her. You can let her have the second bed in your room, that way, so you won't have to leave her."

Albel was justifiably suspicious of the unbidden generosity. "They'll see through that in a heartbeat if your girlfriend spends the rest of the night in this room."

Something flickered in those expressional green eyes, before it was swiftly hidden behind a show of anger. Then the younger swordsman spoke, remembering to keep his voice down: "Sophia is _not_ my girlfriend, Albel. Never was. We grew up together; she's like family. And for your information, I wouldn't consider her if she was the last woman in the galaxy." With that he spun on his heel, threw the door open, and left to do as he had promised.

The room nearly drowned in the stunned silence that followed, before Peppita's whisper finally reached the dark warrior's ears. "He thinks you insulted him."

With a dismissive shake of his head, Albel turned and waited for her to push back her covers. Then he bent low, slipping his good arm under her knees while the other circled around her shoulder, and he lifted her up against his chest and turned toward the waiting doorway.

She was immediately concerned, "But your burns…"

"Little more than scars," he reminded her. "I'm used to their sting."

But she shifted her shoulders, carefully lifting her arms around his neck so as to pull herself more securely against his chest and thereby easing most of her upper body weight from his left arm. Clenching his jaw to still any protests, knowing her efforts were only to help, he nodded his grudging gratitude. They entered the corridor without trouble, though behind another closed door they could hear Fayt's voice as he quickly tried to explain the change of sleeping arrangements. Albel ignored them all, walking passed and heeling the door to his own room closed behind him just as the door to Cliff's room was thrown open.

Lowering the very young girl in his arms to his extra bed, he straightened with a scowl directed toward his door just as the first pounding knocks were delivered against its reinforced plank of wood. It was with no surprise at all that he heard Cliff's voice shouting at him from the other side. "Albel! Let her out of there! Albel, open the door and let her out of there, _now_!"

Without missing a beat, he swept forth and jammed the deadbolt in place, effectively locking their brash comrade out. Behind him, the dark warrior could hear Peppita try to stifle a sudden outburst of giggles, and it filled him with a strange sense of triumph that she was in agreement.

"Albel," they could hear from the other side of the door. "I'm only warning you once. Let her out of there, before I come in and-"

"Stop it, Cliff," Fayt's voice suddenly interrupted with a rare steely calmness in his tone that even Albel the Wicked had come to respect of their young leader. "It was Peppita's choice, and she chose to be with Albel tonight."

"But why him? If she knew-"

"She trusts him," the blue-haired youth answered in that same steely tone that allowed no room for argument. "So do I. So do you, when you stop ranting long enough to think about it. And right now, that trust is all that matters to a fourteen-year-old who just woke up from what might have been one hell of a nightmare, only to find another one waiting outside her window."

Albel tuned them out and turned away from the door, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I do nothing but piss the kid off," he muttered, "and still he defends me…"

"He's your friend," was Peppita's soft reply. "That's what friends do."

"I have no need for friends," Albel hissed without thinking.

"Of course not," she calmly agreed. Tugging the covers over her legs, she pulled her knees up under her chin and curled her slim arms around her shins. "Because friends manipulate. They twist your needs to better fit their own. If they're conniving enough, they do it so seamlessly that you never question them until long after they have no further use for you."

Somehow, watching and hearing such a young mouth form around that perverse spill of words made him feel suddenly wretched. So much so that it forced him to pause and think. Slowly, he ventured, "Do I really sound like that?"

"Not to me," she shook her head with a kind smile. "But that seems to be the message you try to send to them."

He hesitated a moment longer, then carefully approached her, sitting upon the side of his mattress so that he could continue to study the wisdom hidden behind such innocence. "And… How do I sound to you?"

She was quiet for a minute or two seeming, not to decide, but how best to phrase an already concrete decision. Finally, she tucked a strand of white behind her ear and looked at him with those silvery blue eyes. "I think… You're complicated. Maybe not as much as Cliff or Maria make you out to be, but… more than enough, in your own right."

Albel shook his head, "And that's enough for you? Those other fools can't seem to leave me alone with their questions. But you seem to…"

"Accept you for who you are?" She nodded, "Because I do. Sure, someday I hope to learn more about you. I like you; of course I'll feel that way. But it's not hard to see you have your reasons. Velbaysians believe personal reasoning, wherever it leads us, must not be ignored."

He fell quiet for a long moment, hearing a rare sincerity behind her speech. Finally, he sighed and nodded his acceptance.

She offered a small smile. "I'm curious. How do I strike you?"

"A dark angel," he confessed on a whisper, looking up in time to watch her silvery blue eyes widen in surprise. He tried to explain, "It's in the way you dance. With those other fools, you seem to have all this energy pent up inside, with nowhere to go. Battling can only release so much. But when you dance, it… pours out of you. Like the waters of the Sacred Orb, but in a tide of melancholic grief. It looks… cleansing. As though with each calculated step, you're washing your soul of the troubles of daily life…"

An almost comforting silence fell in the wake of his words, as a new level of understanding was now forged between them. Albel wondered what had spurred him to say all that, though after seeing her expression clear into one of quiet fondness he knew he could never take it back. But before he could explore this revelation, his left arm throbbed insistently. He grabbed at it with his good hand, doubling over himself as its pain grew so that it was swiftly making him sick to his stomach.

Vaguely, he could hear Peppita leap from her borrowed bed. She did not shout. She did not call for help. Through the blur of dizziness that now had his mind swimming, he glimpsed her crouching before his knees one moment, and then she was beside him on the mattress the next. With hands that may never know the touch of cruelty, she was gently nudging his shoulder back so that the rest of his upper body could only follow to the mattress. Somehow, Albel's mind was just aware enough to discover that at some point she had moved his pillow so that it would catch the back of his head when he lay down.

He turned his glazed eyes to the side, his mind and body already succumbing to the familiar black of unconsciousness even as he weakly fought it back to watch her. She tucked strands of white behind her ears, then folded her legs beneath her and lifted up on her knees. She moved her hands forth to hover over his stomach. Her palms slowly ignited with a soft blue light, and his unfocused mind recognized the power of symbology. His body was swiftly drowning in fever, even as her meager magic fought against it. Several endless seconds passed, until at last he could feel the countless knots in his stomach unwillingly loosen their hold.

Peppita's brow was beaded with perspiration as she breathed out the fatigue her efforts were bringing upon her. Then her hands moved back, and her palms ignited again.

Albel shook his head, struggling just once more to push back the darkness edging his vision. "No, angel," he warned, his voice an apologetic growl. "It's… too much a part of me, now…"

Tears were freed from her silvery blue eyes as she nodded. "I know," she whispered, though the symbology igniting her palms grew steadily stronger. Her sweet voice had thickened with much sadness and regret; she was crying. "I know…"

And it were her voice and her tears that followed him into the blackness.

~o~

_She tugged them into her arms, radiating excitement._

"_Look, children. A meteor shower! Quick, make as many wishes as you can."_

_But then a cold wind blew against his back, and he wrapped his arms about himself to ward away the chill. Another arm fell across his shoulders, and eyes as red as his own offered a small smile in shared sorrow. Together they searched the skies, hoping, praying for a shooting star to grant the miracle of their strongest wish…_

Albel awoke with a start, gasping for new air. Blinking his eyes open, feeling a small weight across his torso, he glanced down to find Peppita had fallen asleep with her head atop his chest. He lay still a moment, staring at her slumbering form in mild surprise, wondering at the sudden tightness that fisted around his heart at the sight. Determining that his nightmare had not jarred her awake as well, he very carefully extricated himself from beneath her and sat up. Grabbing a blanket from the extra bed, he spread it over her to keep her warm. And that was when he caught sight of his left arm.

He stared. The burn scars were still there but, where once they were red and brown and almost ugly to behold, they were now so white they nearly blended in with the pale color of his skin. Their welts still marred his arm; they could never be smoothed out to match the rest of him. But what had been accomplished already went far beyond his expectations.

He turned his gaze back to the girl sleeping so deeply in his bed, now realizing the root of her exhaustion. Use of symbology always drew upon the caster's strength. And she, so young but so unpredictable, had attempted and nearly succeeded in the impossible. He suspected she would not awaken for some time.

Standing, he crossed the room and looked out his window. It was still dark, and a glance at the skies outside assured him sunrise would be long in coming. If he hurried, he could make it back before the others could come knocking at his door. Glancing once more toward his bed as he tugged his boots on, he dug out a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling a brief note and leaving it on the opposite bed for her to find:

"_Do not fear. I shall return."_

With a practiced ease he secured his clawed gauntlet around his left arm, took up his sheathed katana, and slipped out through the window. At the last second, he remembered to close the window to prevent the night chills from entering, and then he disappeared into the shadows.

The trek to the next city was not easily accomplished in the few hours he had to do so. But Albel Nox had a reputation of being, not only the best swordsman under his king's command, but also the swiftest, impossibly light on his feet if need be. Leaving the town of Peterny, he kept his eyes sharp for the Owner's minions as he began the long hike across the great wide span of unclaimed land leading north. He ignored the paved road that wove a safe path from one town to the next, knowing his presence would better go unnoticed if he stayed on the grass. Much as he itched to drive the claws of his gauntlet across those "divine" throats, he knew better than to confront one of them alone.

The moon was just kissing the horizon when at last he entered the city of Aquios. Though it was not yet twilight, some few people were walking the streets presumably to open shops. He paid them no mind as he passed, though his quick mind was diligently memorizing every face at a glance, a well-earned habit from a war which ended without his involvement.

He approached the two soldiers guarding the castle entrance. They eyed him warily, perhaps recalling his reputation, but let him pass. Even had they not recognized him as a member of "Master" Fayt's party, it was a law of their queen to allow all who wished it their time to pray in the castle's chapel. But Albel was not there for the chapel. His steps echoed softly as he strode purposefully along the corridor until he found the door he was looking for. Effortlessly picking its lock, he slipped into the room, quietly closing and relocking the door behind him.

With his back resting against the thick slab of wood, he set his katana aside in a corner and waited patiently for his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness of the windowless room. Almost immediately, his gaze fell upon the room's only bed, and the slumbering form thereon, and he studied that face. Its lines had strengthened, though the angles of cheeks and chin and brow were still softer than his own. The pale dust-grey hair was handsomely unruly and, though he could not see them, he knew some of that hair had been allowed to grow out and was separated in two knee-length rattails. Exactly like his own.

After a long minute or two, he stretched his good hand out and muttered a simple rune, igniting the handful of candles spread throughout the room. He then approached the bed, crouched low, and gently nudged the room's only occupant by the shoulder.

The other's eyes blinked open, and he swiftly clapped a hand over the other's mouth even as those eyes widened in recognition. He waited for a count of twenty, giving the other time to get over any surprise or alarm in finding him there, and then slowly he moved his hand away. The other calmly sat up, blankets gathering on his lap; a tongue flicked out to wet dry lips.

"Albel…?"

He searched those eyes - so glaringly red like his own - but the malice and suspicion he had feared to find there were missing. Slowly relaxing, he offered a hesitant smile.

"Mackwell."

The other's hands reached up to grasp his shoulders, and then he was being pulled into a tight embrace which he allowed and returned just as freely. The other's brow tipped atop his shoulder, and he could hear the other whisper, "Your letters stopped months ago. I didn't know what to think…"

"I was accused of betraying my king," he answered as softly. "That warmonger Vox had me imprisoned for weeks before I was released."

"He accused you-" Mackwell shook his head against the dark warrior's shoulder, disbelieving. "A lie. No one is more loyal than you. But…" He lifted his head, his gaze wondering. "I heard of Vox's demise. Was it then you were released? Why did you not contact me sooner?"

Sighing, Albel pulled himself from the other's embrace and sat upon the side of the bed. "If you've learned of his demise, then you must also know of the power threatening our world."

The other's eyes widened, "I'd dismissed the rumors as nonsense."

"Your reaction is the same as was mine. But it's become far more complicated." Patiently, he described the truth of the situation, leaving no detail untold. From Crosell's involvement to defending the Kirlsa training facility, to deciding to join the off-worlders on their quest to find answers…

"What?" Mackwell quickly gripped Albel's good arm, "You left our world, without any assurance that you could return?"

The dark warrior glanced aside. "I… apologize, Mackwell. But I stand by my decision. Even if it meant never seeing you again, I knew I would be doing my part to keep our world - and _you_ - protected."

The runological scholar was quiet a moment, but eventually released his arm. "There's more you're not telling me…"

"Yes," he sighed, and went on to finish the tale. He told of the discoveries on a space station called Moonbase; barely escaping an attack as they fled to the planet Styx. The activating and manipulating of the Time Gate; their reckless venture into the 4D realm, only to learn…

Mackwell stared, "A game? Our world was at _war_. People fought, survived, died… And it was all a _game_ for their amusement?"

Albel nodded.

"And this creator, this… Owner-"

"Luther. He is not a god, but a man like any other. Nothing more."

"Luther, then," the other accepted the correction. "He means to _delete_ our galaxy, because he fears our technology has gone too far?"

"Perhaps not here on Elicoor." The dark warrior shook his head, "But I have seen examples of greater technology than our own. Yet I agree that these 4D beings are in fact inviting our retaliation."

"The people you're traveling with," Mackwell slowly asked, "are they going to stop this Luther, before…?"

"They're going to try," Albel assured. "And I refuse to be left out of that."

"There have been rumors of a mysterious quest, led by the equally mysterious Master Fayt. Is that what this is?"

The dark warrior scoffed, almost to himself. "There is no mystery behind that fool. Put someone he cares for in peril, and it's easy to predict what he'll do."

Hearing something in those words, the young scholar gave him a calculative glance. "He intrigues you."

Albel tossed him a sidelong glare. "You tread in dangerous waters…"

"So it's true, then," he chuckled, seemingly unsurprised at what such a revelation entailed. "Come, now; tell me everything!"

With a roll of his eyes, the dark warrior gave in. Twenty minutes later, Mackwell's bemused look gave way to one of awe and admiration. "And… will you tell him one day?"

The other shook his head, "I doubt it. I've fought this long to keep from having to do just that."

"Albel…"

"Try not to pity me, Mackwell. It's not so bad as you might think."

"I don't believe that," the young alchemist softly proclaimed. "I am not naïve; nor are you. Your quest may fail, and all that we know may end. But _this_ will likely devour you, before all is said and done."

One of the candle stubs sputtered and died, and Mackwell left his bed to replace it. Albel's eyes followed the other across the room, noting that the young scholar had been sleeping in night pants and no shirt. And as the new candle was being lit, he could barely make out the old scars that criss-crossed the other's back, a reminder of days better left forgotten.

"You _will_ be careful, won't you," Mackwell requested, mercifully changing the subject as he turned around again. "Do your utmost to return alive?"

"Yes."

"After all, you're the only family I have left."

Here, he fell silent, unable to meet the other's gaze any longer.

"Albel?" The other came back to the bed and sat again at his side. "Albel, what is it?"

"I-," he tried, then hesitated. "Do you… remember Elayne?"

"_Remember_ her? There are nights I am still _haunted_ by her. We were both so young when she disappeared." There was a moment's pause, before the slightly older man wondered, "Why?"

"The off-worlders I travel with…" Albel sighed, finally looking up to meet the other's gaze, "I believe one of them is her daughter."


	3. For You

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter Three - For You**

Mackwell stared for several long minutes, dark red eyes wide with disbelief. "A daughter. _Her_ daughter?"

"I think so."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Why are we only speaking of this now?"

"It isn't proven yet," Albel muttered, dropping his elbows to his knees and dragging the fingers of his good hand through his hair. "But she looks so much like Elayne; the golden skin, the delicate frame. Her eyes… She has her love for bells and the unpredictable… And the way she dances…"

The other sucked in a quick breath.

He nodded, "I should've caught it before now. She _dances_, Mackwell. Her routines are varied, and she often twists them to fit her fighting style. But there's something in the way she moves that is unmistakably Elayne."

"You've developed a soft spot for her."

"It never occurred to me to fight it," he confessed at last. "She gets to me, without even trying. But then the nightmares started coming back, and I couldn't help but realize."

"It could be true," Mackwell slowly agreed. "Father never told us why Elayne suddenly disappeared like that, though you and I always had our suspicions. This would mean…"

"A sister for you," Albel whispered. "A half-sister for me."

"Albel, I never looked on you as anything less than a true brother. Bloodlines and circumstance notwithstanding, that has and will never change. Do you doubt me?"

The dark warrior turned his head until his fiery gaze fell upon the other's right hand. The knuckles on the back of that hand were slightly more pronounced than those of the left. Of its own accord, his mind recalled when Mackwell had nearly broken every one of those knuckles in a desperate act to protect him. They had been only children, then. It had been the first of a seemingly endless number of times his elder brother had looked out for him while he had been still too young and too weak to do it himself.

"No," Albel gruffly answered. "I do not doubt you."

He could hear the other take a careful breath. "Albel… What is her name?"

~o~

The morning had long begun as he crept again through the streets of Peterny. He knew he had arrived with plenty of time, as most of their party preferred to sleep in when they could get away with it. However, Albel reminded himself as he slipped behind the inn and found his window, that did not include Peppita, who unerringly rose with the sun. He pressed up against the side of the building, testing the window only to find it locked. Turning his head that he might gaze into his room, he glimpsed the dancer girl sitting upon the extra bed, his note clasped securely in both her hands. He let his eyes take in the sight of her, recalling Mackwell's last words to him before he left:

"_If she's traveling with you, she must have some skill. Yet indulge me this once. Watch over her. There are many things we three must discuss one day, but I understand your quest comes first. I shall await the both of you."_

It was a promise he had already sworn in his heart, though he was only now beginning to realize it. Shaking his head, he lifted his good hand and quietly rapped the back of his knuckles against the window glass. Her eyes turned sharply in his direction, the flash of alarm in her silvery blue eyes quickly giving way to relief and a welcoming smile. Standing, she crossed to the window, unlatching it for him and standing back to let him in.

The climb through the window was a small hurdle he cleared with little trouble, and he set the latch in place once more after he'd done. Almost before he could turn around, he suddenly found himself caught within a tight circle of arms around his waist, and a head of soft white hair pressed against his lower ribs. That sudden tightness from before wrapped warmly about his heart once again, and this time he did not question its purpose. Slowly, hesitantly, he let his good arm curl around her shoulders, and he carefully returned the embrace. "I didn't want to wake you…"

"I know I had no right to worry," she whispered. "You're strong, and clever, and can take care of yourself. But when I saw that you'd gone, after what happened-"

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Albel gently tugged her away, waiting until her gaze lifted to meet his. "I did mention that the hurt returns. My mistake was in neglecting to warn you that when at its strongest, I could be forced into unconsciousness in attempt to block it out."

Her beautiful eyes grew wide, "It's happened before?"

"Rarely. But… yes."

She fell into a stunned silence. He quietly led her to sit with him upon one of the beds, so that their great difference in height could be ignored for the moment. "Your symbology pushed the pain back, away from my stomach and lungs. So it was not so bad this time, and I awoke sooner than usual. And my arm… Thank you, angel."

The smile that touched her lips was a small one, timid happiness flushing her cheeks with a faint rosy shade.

"I can't ignore what you tried to do for me," he softly added. "But I must ask you to swear to me that you'll never try it again. Another attempt - that _last_ attempt, could have driven you into a coma."

That swiftly chased her smile away. And now her eyes were filling with tears, "You're angry with me…"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm afraid for you. Not because you are the youngest; not because I agree with those other fools that you cannot defend yourself as well as they do. I've seen that you can, and I've seen that you're quick-witted enough to withdraw when the threat is too great."

"Then, why?"

"Because you're my-" But as he met her wondering gaze, the word stuck in his throat. He knew the truth; he would not have ventured alone at night to share his suspicions with Mackwell if he did not believe it so. But when it came to confessing it to this dancer girl, who so strongly believed her father had been some valiant soldier, he found himself unable.

"Friend?" She offered, her smile making a hesitant return.

He glanced away, knowing himself a coward just then for accepting her attempt to fill in the blank instead of doing so himself. "Yes."

Her surprised giggle filled his ears. "Don't worry," she whispered, teasingly. "I won't tell anyone. If they're too dense to figure it out on their own, then it's none of their business."

Her good mood was suddenly infectious, and he could not contain the amusement that curled the corner of his mouth.

~o~

Their small number had voted to find their breakfasts in the center plaza. Upon their insistence, Peppita sat at a table with Sophia and Maria, which left Albel the very opportunity he needed. Roughly tapping Fayt's shoulder to get the other's attention, he motioned with his head for the young leader to follow for a private word. He led into the chapel, where they were spared from prying ears, and he checked that they were not followed by that overprotective Cliff before closing the door.

Fayt glanced around, finding the chapel was empty, then settled his gaze upon the dark warrior. "All right, Albel, you got me in here. What is it?"

He frowned, finding something unsettling with the other's tone. Then he realized. "You're still pissed at me."

"I'm not," argued Fayt, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing away. "I just… seem to keep overestimating our friendship-"

"_Friend_ship?"

His spine tensed, and Fayt turned his head more to the side. "You asked me once if I hated you. Everything I told you that night… It was the truth. I trust you." Abruptly, he turned back around, uncrossing his arms with a frustrated sigh. "I'd like to consider you my friend, but you keep pushing me away."

Albel scoffed, "Still the dreamer, I see."

"Maybe," the blue-haired youth shrugged. "You'd think after seeing the way you treat the others, one would learn to back off. But then I saw the way you were slowly warming to Peppita. I guess I'm just… waiting my turn."

Albel narrowed his fiery red eyes as he swiftly stalked closer, effectively forcing the other to back away toward a wall. "You have those other fools. Aren't they enough for you?" Fayt's back hit the wall, and Albel threw his hand and clawed gauntlet to either side of the younger warrior, pinning him there. "I'm only sticking around for the hunt; I never claimed to like any of you. And I thought I made it clear to you once already that I have no place in your _happy_ little world!"

Those piercing green eyes were now wide and wary, as though discovering the wolf beneath the sheep's clothing. It was not a look that befitted the blue-haired leader. Clenching his jaw, Albel shifted forward until the length of his body was nearly pressing up against the other's, then caught Fayt's mouth with his own. The younger man seemed frozen in place with shock, and Albel found himself preferring a more active response. Tilting his head, he sucked at the other's lower lip and lightly bit down. Those lips parted with a sharp gasp, and he smoothly let his tongue slip between them to explore the wet cavern beyond. After another moment, a hand smoothed up the front of his small tank top to grasp the broken chain of his collar, and finally Fayt's mouth was moving against his own to return the favor. Albel growled his approval, and their tongues danced in a war for dominance that neither seemed willing to lose.

When at last Albel released that mouth, he knew he was facing addiction. Fayt's fierce green eyes were half-lidded and glazed over, and his finely carved lips were bruised red from their kiss. It was all Albel could do at that moment not to jerk the blue-haired youth against him and devour that mouth a second time. Eyes narrowing, fist at his side, he slowly backed away and put some distance between them.

"Why?"

He looked up, finding Fayt watching him with a carefully withdrawn expression that Albel knew well. That look had been directed at him before, when first they met on the arena of the Kirlsa training facility, and once more when they encountered each other again. Then had come the night Albel had roused him from his bed and asked that fateful question. And then that look had vanished, replaced by one of open trust.

Albel silently wondered at the sickly sinking weight in his chest at its return.

"Why?" Fayt quietly demanded, slowly stepping away from the wall. "After all that, why would you…?"

The dark warrior scowled, saying nothing.

Something flashed within those green orbs, and Fayt glanced aside. "Was it punishment?"

To that, Albel found he must answer. "No."

The blue-haired swordsman took a visible breath, and that look had gone. Nodding, Fayt met his gaze once more. "Why did you bring me here, Albel? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

He accepted the change of discussion for what it was. "We're nearing another turn in the hunt. I know you feel it too. It's in the very taste of the air about us; it's the static charge beneath our fingertips, almost as if lying just beyond our reach."

Fayt nodded, understanding. "What do you suggest?"

"I need to return to Airyglyph," he confessed. "I'd prefer not to fail against our enemy. Promises have been made, promises I dare not break, so near as we are to the end. But I realize I am lacking. There is a power, my heirloom, that until now I have been reluctant to claim. I have no right anymore to give in to that fear."

"I didn't know 'fear' was even in your vocabulary," the young leader commented, with not a drop of sarcasm. "And what do you mean, 'lacking'? I was told you were the best."

"The best, eh?" Albel asked, his mouth pulling in a teasing sneer.

Fayt answered that smirk with one of his own. "Well… at the time it was said, it was also meant to describe you as a danger and a threat, but you get the idea."

"All the more reason for me to return to Airyglyph. _As_ the best, I would prove a better asset to you were I _at_ my best. And for that, I need to do this first."

"To gain the power you didn't want." The other sighed, "Do you want us to come with you, or should you go alone?"

It was Albel's turn this time to be caught off-guard. "What?"

"This is important, right? Or else you wouldn't bother to ask." Waving idly toward the chapel doors, Fayt added, "If you don't want the others in on this, they won't be. But judging from the way you are with Peppita, I thought I'd make the offer."

"Offer," the dark warrior repeated under his breath. Somehow, it lacked the taste of insult he would usually suspect if it had been spoken by Cliff or Maria. Perhaps it was not so terrible a word after all. He nodded, coming to a decision. "The girl has grown somewhat attached to me. But once in Airyglyph, I will be distracted. All of my attention must be given to what I must do, if I am to succeed. It… unsettles me, how deeply I will fall into this before it is done. And if something were to happen…"

"Albel," Fayt quietly spoke, moving to stand close enough to touch. "It can just be the three of us. I don't understand most of what you're saying right now, but the fact that you even tried to explain that much tells me you're worried. We'll go together. And when the time comes, I'll look after Peppita for you."


	4. Punishment

Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl**

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter Four - Punishment**

It was not so difficult a ruse as they had thought. The entire party doubled back through Arias, and then came to a rest in the small mining town of Kirlsa. Fayt bade Cliff to watch over the three women and to re-supply anything that needed it in his absence. Then, in that tone that left no room for argument, he instructed them to wait in that small town until his return - no questions asked. Even Maria Traydor, a woman of far too many opinions, nodded her acceptance to the odd order. With that, the two swordsmen and one dancing gypsy left Kirlsa by the south-western gate.

Good fortune seemed eager to smile on them this once, for their trek along the mountain path was not hindered by snowstorm or icy winds. Fayt was better than his word, helping Peppita along when she needed it and knowing to leave her be when she didn't.

It was perhaps three days of nearly relentless travel before they entered the royal city of Airyglyph, and they rested a night at the inn before approaching the castle. With a silent look, Albel reminded the other warrior of his oath on Peppita's behalf, and then led up to the throne hall on the second floor. The two paused in the center of the hall, while Albel stepped forth to stand before the throne, and his king.

"It's been some time since we last met," Airyglyph XIII greeted. "You simply vanished without notifying me. To where did you disappear?"

Albel gave a single nod of his head in the briefest salute, "Allow me to apologize for that. If I must be punished, then so be it. But there's something I must do first. So I must ask you to lend me the sword."

There was a heavy guardsman standing just to the right of the throne, who made no attempt to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. "How dare you address His Majesty in such an irreverent manner? Such insolence will not be tolerated. Remember to whom you are speaking!"

But the King only shook his head at the soldier. "It matters not. Do not let it bother you."

"But he's being so…"

"I said, it matters not," the King assured in a slightly firmer tone. "I have no issue with his manner."

"Y-Yes… Your Majesty."

" 'The sword', you said," the King now spoke to Albel, suspect caution slipping into his voice. "And just what sword might that be?"

The dark warrior gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder, though his glaring red eyes shone with purpose and warning. "You know which one. The Sword of the Crimson Scourge. What other is there?"

"Are you so great a fool?" The guard blurted once more, "That sword is a part of His Majesty's royal treasure. Do you think the king would readily hand it over to so insolent a fool as you?"

But the King turned his head and silenced the man with a single look, and the guard bowed his apology and would say no more. Sighing, the King returned his attention to the captain of his Black Brigade. "It might be late for such a question," he broached. "But allow me to ask: Have you gone utterly mad?"

Briefly closing his eyes, Albel shook his head. "I can't even answer that. But the truth is that we have no other choice. Using that sword's power as soon as possible is the only solution I can think of."

"Power, you say…" The King looked thoughtful, "You want to use it against those monsters that infest our lands?"

"My own sword is sufficient to deal with them," he professed. "But there are greater threats than monsters."

The King's brow creased, " 'Greater threats'…? It is indeed a sword of unfathomable power. It would be a powerful force for us - if you gain mastery of it. However… Are you capable of mastering it? As far as I know, the only person that sword has ever acknowledged as its master was your father. Vox, too, tried to wield it. But he, in part, fell under its sway. What will happen if you lose the battle to the sword and it ends up ruling your mind?"

Albel had thought of this. It was the fear that had for years driven him away from the temptation. But he had made his decision, and he now had the answer - no matter how fervently he wished otherwise. "It shall mean I was not equipped to save our world." He cocked his head toward his left shoulder, behind which stood Fayt and Peppita in quiet witness, "These outsiders will take over for me, I'm sure."

The King was silent for a long minute, obviously reluctant to speak the words he knew must be spoken. Finally, he nodded and came to his feet. "It seems we have a difficult decision before us. Truthfully, I do not wish to lose you, even if it is for the sake of our kingdom. However, we have no other choice."

Albel was instructed to lead, and together the four descended from the second floor hall. At the King's command, they were permitted into the treasury adjacent to the cell where Albel himself had been held prisoner. There, the King and the two off-worlders stayed back while the dark warrior stepped forth and pried open the cellar-like door to the treasure vault. A burst of light sprang forth and flooded the room, illuminating the gold and precious stones within. And in the midst of it all, standing erect as though its blade had sought a victim beneath such treasures, was a silver katana. It much resembled the one already sheathed at Albel's hip, in both size and shape. But the leather of its grip, intricately carved yet with a subtlety that was both simple and threatening, was the dark red color of blood.

"Hey," Peppita whispered. "W-Why's it glowing?"

"It is a legendary sword," the King answered as softly, his eyes never leaving the brigade captain. "Passed down through the ages to our kingdom from the Ancient Kingdom of Aquor. It is said that when wielded by one who is worthy of being its master, the sword could even cleave the sky in two."

Fayt turned his head, "Worthy of wielding it? What does that…?"

"It means exactly that. The sword itself chooses who shall wield it. Consequences most unfortunate shall befall the unworthy who would attempt to use it."

Something in the way those words were spoken reminded the blue-haired youth of the conversation in Peterny's chapel, and a cold chill like liquid ice crept down his spine. "What exactly are these unfortunate circumstances you speak of?"

"In the best case, it takes over it's wielder's mind. In the worst case, it consumes both body and soul."

Fayt had only a sharp gasp at his side as warning, and he swiftly turned and caught Peppita in his arms as the young girl tried to race forward and stop their companion. "But he can't," she whimpered. "I won't let him!"

"Silence," the King suddenly ordered. "It has already begun."

~o~

Albel lowered himself to one knee atop a pile of gold coins. "O, Sword of the Crimson Scourge," he intoned. "I command you to recognize me as your master. And I command you to grant me your power!"

Light that was not from candle nor torch reflected along the blade, and abruptly his skull thrummed with unfamiliar pain. And then his mind was flooded with a blood red light that nearly blinded from behind his eyes.

_Seeker of power… What is it that you hate?_

"Hate?" He wondered aloud, "What do you mean?"

_Hate is the root of power. Those who go against one's will must be compelled by force._

"What utter nonsense! I have no time for stupid questions." Albel reached for his own blade at his hip, a reflex in his anger as he demanded, "What is it you wish to say?"

_There is no conflict without hate_, came the words, surprising him into slowly moving his hand away from his katana's sheath. _Do you have hatred for those monsters that seek to harm you? Do you have hatred for worthless subordinates who do not live up to your expectations? Do you have hatred for the cowardly commoner who is not willing to fight to the death? Do you have hatred for the king who stands above you, handing down selfish commands? Do you have hatred for that arrogant dragon knight who always looked down on you? Do you have hatred for one who is better than you and beloved by the masses? Or… Do you have hatred for that monster who drove your father to his death?_

"Enough," Albel whispered. And then louder, "Enough, I said!"

The words bombarding his mind had cut deep, and now his heart was pounding in his chest, making it difficult to continue breathing steadily. Their truth stung, like a dagger had punctured his heart with every question, and he found himself confessing the darkest truth of his heart. "I hate myself…" His eyes closing against the weight of it, a cold burden in his chest shrinking with every guilty declaration, he went on: "I hate myself for the inexperience that makes me a failure in battle. I hate myself for the selfishness that will not allow me to accept others. I hate myself for the arrogance that makes me look down on those weaker than I. I hate myself for my suspicion-filled heart that distrusts the King. I hate myself for the rebellious nature that prevents me from cooperating with others. I hate myself for the jealous nature that makes me envious of those superior to me. And… I hate myself for the death of my father, _brought by my own impotence_!"

The thrumming in his skull eased off a bit, _This, then, is your answer?_

"Yes," he sighed, wondering at the ache in his chest that soothed where once a pain like thorns had scarred. "I hate nothing more than myself…"

The thrumming left his skull completely, and the blood red glow dimmed from behind his eyes. A flash of light nearly blinded him, its reflection quivering along the Sword's blade. _You may take me in hand, warrior of strong heart. I shall bend to your will. Together we shall destroy all beings cleaved by my blade. And all that we slay shall be cast from this world for eternity._

~o~

Airyglyph XIII witnessed as his second-most trusted captain slowly reached forth and fisted the Sword's grip, and he turned away with a much-relieved sigh. "Well done," he whispered beneath his breath. "A splendid accomplishment indeed, Albel."

~o~

The dark warrior removed his katana from its sheath and let the Sword take its place, tossing the other blade onto the pile of treasure to be claimed by whomever might find it. No sooner had he turned away than he glimpsed Peppita working free of Fayt's arms and racing forth to throw herself into Albel's embrace instead.

Albel caught her against his chest, knowing some guilt in feeling her shoulders tremble as she released her worry in silent tears. "Angel, don't," he whispered, smoothing his good hand along her spine. "It's over. I'm still here."

"We could've lost you forever," she wept, burying her face into the front of his small tank top. "Please tell me you're really going to be okay."

"I am," he assured. "My head aches a bit, but that wasn't so bad at all." He felt her arms tighten around his waist, and he gently squeezed his good arm around her shoulders in response. Looking up, he found Fayt watching them with traces of his own worry. The blue-haired youth caught his glance, and offered a hesitant smile. Albel gave a slow smirk in return, "I am in your debt."

"You don't owe me anything," Fayt shook his head. "The risk was yours to take. So, what now? Feel up to getting out of here, or do you need a minute?"

"No," he declined, though he smirked again to show he appreciated the offer. "I can leave at any time."

Fayt began to nod his acceptance, but then paused, his smile softening. "Perhaps _she_ could use a minute. Or ninety."

Albel quickly glanced down, finding that Peppita had exhausted herself from weeping, only able to remain standing due to his good arm circling her shoulders. She had fallen asleep. Shaking his head, his heart swelling at the sight, he looked up and held his gauntleted arm forth.

The blue-haired youth nodded, stepping closer and setting the fingers of both hands to the first of the leather bands embracing the underside of Albel's arm. He held the dark warrior's gaze for a long moment, then glanced down and effortlessly released the buckle, slipping the band loose and moving his fingers down to the next one. There were seven in all - three above the elbow, and four below. After he had done, Fayt's dark green eyes lifted to find that fiery gaze still patiently watching him. Carefully grasping the clawed glove of the gauntlet, he slowly pulled down.

Something flashed across those blood-red eyes, and a soft growl emitted from deep in the dark warrior's throat as his arm was freed. Albel watched as Fayt's tongue flicked out to wet dry lips, and the sight beckoned a heat to tighten within his stomach. Clenching his jaw, he looked away and bent down, hooking his arm behind Peppita's knees and finally lifting her up against his chest. The moment broken, Fayt crossed the room ahead of him and wordlessly opened the door, leading the way to keep the path clear.

~o~

"Albel," Fayt whispered as the dark warrior carefully placed Peppita into the bed of one of the rooms they had rented. "Can I see you for a minute?"

He tossed the other a look of mild annoyance. Digging briefly into the girl's small satchel of extra clothes and battle remedies, he took out the note he had written once before, slipping it into her hand and pulling a fur-lined blanket over her shoulder before turning away. Finally nodding his permission, he softly closed the door behind them and followed into their other rented room. Closing that door as well, he leaned back against it and folded his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

"This," the blue-haired youth answered, reaching forth and gently pulling Albel's left arm loose to hold it up between them. "The only other time I saw this without the gauntlet was the night Peppita had her nightmare. But it was scarred beyond belief. When- How did…?"

He sighed, "It was her. That same night. With symbology."

"If it were as easy as that," Fayt slowly murmured, "I'm sure you or someone else would have done it long ago. But maybe I'm not getting the whole picture. Maybe the burns went too deep, or the power required was too great-" Those dark green eyes widened, and he stared at the man before him. "That _was_ it, wasn't it. Even if a doctor had come all the way from Aquios itself, it wouldn't have been enough. But then Peppita comes along, and she… Albel. She could've died."

The dark warrior lowered his gaze away and jerked his arm free. "I know," he growled guiltily. "Don't you think I _know_? I never wanted her to risk herself for me."

"… You care for her a great deal, don't you."

He jerked his head up at the strange lilt in the other's voice, and found those usually unguarded green eyes watching him carefully. His own eyes narrowing, he scowled. "Didn't know you were the jealous type."

"Should I be," the younger swordsman returned neutrally.

Albel knew sudden anger at the other's presuming and, before he could stop it, his good hand flew out and caught the blue strands at the back of Fayt's neck, wrenching the other closer until their faces nearly touched. Hard red eyes glared into alarmed green. "The girl is more important to me than I will ever allow you to know," he hissed. "But I kissed _you_. I should think that was enough to clue you in on a few details you obviously haven't figured out. _Never_ try to weigh my feelings between the two of you again, or I'll be forced to eliminate you from the equation."

With an impatient growl, he then grabbed the other by the shoulders and whirled them about until Fayt's back hit the door, and he claimed that mouth with his own. He immediately nipped at the other's lower lip, barely seeking permission before he thrust his tongue in and ravished the slick cavern therein. He let his teeth graze painfully against the insides of Fayt's lips, dominating the battle of their tongues and leaving no room for argument. Then he jerked away and shoved the blue-haired youth aside, throwing the door open and leaving without another word.

Fayt stared after him for a long minute, his heart racing with the effort to return blood and sensation to his veins even as he strove to steady his breathing. Finally, he lifted a quavering hand to the door and softly swung it shut. Turning away, he watched his room blur with tears he refused to let fall.

"_That_ was punishment…"


	5. Lost On You

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter Five - Lost On You**

Peppita was already awake when he quietly stormed into their room, and Albel shut the door behind him with a sigh as he strove for the patience she deserved. "Angel," he softly reprimanded. "You should rest while you can. The hike down the mountain will be just as demanding as it was coming up."

"I will," she promised, pushing up on her elbow as she watched him sit upon the other bed. "But… I thought I heard a noise. And now you look upset about something."

The dark warrior tossed a cold glare toward the door, "I nearly came to fists with that fool."

"With Fayt?" She guessed. "But, why?"

Albel suspected that at fourteen, the dancer girl was far more knowledgeable than she let on. He had seen proof of this. And so, with only a moment's hesitation, he answered, "The idiot actually had the audacity to presume I had impure intentions toward you."

The quiet peace in the room suddenly grew stonily heavy in the wake of those words, and after another minute he chanced a glance her way. Peppita's brow had creased in contemplation, and her silvery blue eyes were gazing down at her hand. "I thought _he_ would know better," she finally whispered.

Knowing some relief that his assumptions had been correct, Albel confessed, "So did I. Even were I not a decade your senior, there are three very real factors that prevent me from ever attempting such an atrocity."

"I'm underage," Peppita nodded. "And you prefer men."

After all that, it seemed he had still managed to underestimate her. "I never told you…"

"You didn't need to," she smiled, not unkindly. "You're not obvious, but I saw the way you reacted when Sophia tried to drown her worries in drink a few weeks ago and then couldn't seem to leave you alone."

Albel grimaced, remembering. "The wench wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. It was all I could do to keep from striking at her."

"Honestly, I didn't think she had it in her." Peppita giggled, "Now Cliff and Mirage make it a point to keep an eye on her whenever they stop by another bar."

He rolled his eyes at her mirth at his expense, shaking his head. When she'd done, the girl took a long breath to calm herself, and she brought their conversation back to subject. "You're too honorable to take advantage of me while I'm underage and unable to defend myself against you. So there's one. And I hardly think I could pass for a man, no matter how much either of us had to drink. But what's the third reason?"

_Because you're family._ It was on the very tip of his tongue; all he had to do was to spit it out and let it be known at last. But it was far too much to reveal at once, and he found himself reluctant to destroy her trust in him so swiftly as that. Yet he could not lie to her. "I made a promise," he carefully replied. "To protect you. To keep you safe, and to see the both of us through this alive."

Her silvery blue eyes widened, and she slowly sat the rest of the way up. "Who would ask that?"

"… Your brother."

She stared for a long while, her face a blank. But then it seemed she had at last absorbed his words, for her face became a kaleidoscope of warring emotions - from disbelief, to wonder, to… hurt. And Albel knew such guilt as never before that he had given away even that much. Her dainty hand lifted up to catch the golden bell dangling from her neck. "I… I have a brother?"

He sighed, "Two. You have two brothers."

"But I don't understand," she whispered. "Why didn't my mother tell me? How did you find out?"

"I can't guess why you weren't told before now," Albel apologized, coming to sit with her on her bed. "But you look so much like your mother. That is how I knew."

She gasped, tears brimming her eyes as she stared up at him. "You knew my mother?"

He nodded, "Your circus takes their performance from one world to another, yes? But before she reunited with them, Elayne spent twelve years here on Elicoor. I think I was about ten years old when last I saw her. She… left, rather unexpectedly. But if you mention her name in this city, especially within the walls of the castle…" He shook his head, "Outwardly, they won't react, but in their eyes you would see that they remember."

"She really left that much of an impression?"

"She touched the hearts of all who were graced by her smile," Albel assured the girl. "And she smiled often." Sighing, he went on. "One of your brothers knew you straightaway, and the other wrangled from me my word toward your safety, that one day they might see you again and tell you the truth."

Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. But the dark warrior could see the tears streaking down the sides of her face. "Are you angry with me?"

After a long moment, she gave a small shake of her head. "No, Albel. I understand what you're telling me. None of this is your fault."

Cursing under his breath, he swung his gaze away from the sincerity of her faith in him. But then he knew great surprise when he felt her hand clasp over his, and he turned back to find her trying to smile at him through her tears. "Can you… Do you know their names? The names of my brothers?"

He bit at the inside of his cheek with indecision, something he had not done since he was a child. But he knew he had revealed too much already, and so one thing more to keep her going would not matter now. Finally, he nodded. "One is… reluctant, to have you learn about him until the time is right. But the elder one. His name is Mackwell. He's a scholar, and an alchemist."

~o~

Two mornings later, they set out upon their return journey to Kirlsa, and it was not so very difficult for Albel to take note of the change in the behaviors of the other two. Peppita had grown just slightly quieter, though she never failed to smile at him as though their new secret was just one of many they already shared. But Fayt had very discreetly begun distancing himself from the dark warrior, and Albel was not so discreetly growing frustrated with the whole ordeal. By the time they arrived to the mining town, Fayt barely spoke two words together to him outside the exchange of tactical orders necessary in battle. Then they reunited with the rest of their party, and Fayt's behavior shifted yet again. He was pleasant, amiable, as though nothing had occurred - while _they_ were around to witness it. But there was always that closed look in those otherwise unguarded green eyes that would spur Albel to swear under his breath when directed at him, and when chance caught them alone…

Well.

It was as though Fayt was determined that they should never be left alone again.

Cliff and Maria kept their word, and asked nothing of their quest to the mountain city. Likewise, Albel told them nothing they had no right to know. Yet it surprised him when Fayt offered no information as well. The younger swordsman would have had every right to use what he knew to get back at Albel for what the dark warrior had done. But Fayt only revealed that he had wanted to speak with Airyglyph's king, and then would say no more.

They left Kirlsa some days later, and began their return through Aries. Fayt's behavior toward him grew slowly colder as they descended into the warmer climates of the continent, though the others were apparently far too dense to notice.

All, it seemed, except one. When at last they entered the walls of Peterny once more, Peppita pulled him aside and led him down an alley where they would not be followed. The moment they reached the alley's end, she rounded on her heel and set her fists to her hips. Her glare was not of anger or suspicion, but of a sad disappointment that gave him pause. "I know what he thought in Airyglyph was terrible," she sighed. "But I really don't think he meant anything by it. After all, I must be the only female the others have witnessed you practicing some patience around, so what else was Fayt to think?"

"That I have morals," he growled.

"What morals, Albel?" She shook her head, the white strands of her hair swaying about her shoulders with the movement. "_I_ know you have them. But when was the last time you let any of _them_ see that about you?" Dropping her hands from her hips, she offered a small smile and stepped closer, delicate fingers of one hand resting upon his good arm. "I'm not asking you to change who you are for them. I'm just… suggesting that you not be so surprised and frustrated when their blissful ignorance yields more results close to what's going on now with Fayt."

He sighed, his annoyance now directed at himself. "What do you suggest I do?"

Peppita gave another smile, "Find Fayt. Get him alone somewhere, and make him understand."

~o~

Ever since the last time he had startled the blue-haired youth awake to ask that all-important question, Fayt had become quite the light sleeper. It was almost as though he had been preparing for the moment the dark warrior would invade his room again. Standing beside the other's bed late that night, Albel knew that he would have to time this very precisely.

Bracing one hand upon the frame of the bed, he lifted one foot up to the lower end and then swung his other leg up and over to support his weight on the other side of the frame. Catching his other hand to the opposite side of the single pillow, Albel hovered there and waited. After a moment, Fayt frowned in his sleep, clear indication that he sensed something amiss. Smirking, Albel lightly blew across the younger warrior's face. Fayt's frown deepened, and his eyes blinked open.

"… Albel?"

"Fool," he greeted.

Those eyes shifted their green gaze south, widened, and flew back up again. Fayt licked dry lips, drawing in an audibly shaky breath. "W-What are you doing here?"

"I should think that was obvious," he returned. "Or do you suddenly deem me unworthy of you?"

"I-I…" Clamping his mouth shut, the other silently shook his head.

"Good," Albel smirked. "Now. Get rid of that blanket."

Hesitating only a moment, Fayt slowly complied, kicking the thing to the floor. Albel knew quiet satisfaction that the blue-haired youth was once again clad only in a pair of night pants. Some few beads of perspiration had already formed on his bare throat and collarbones, proof that Fayt tended to sweat a little in his sleep. Fayt gave a tenuous smile, "So… What now?"

Instead of the countless smart-lipped remarks he could have given in answer to that one, the dark warrior merely stated, "Now, fool, the game begins." Muscles straining, he lowered himself just enough so that their mouths brushed in the merest kiss. The broken chain of his metal collar swept over Fayt's bare chest, and the blue-haired youth flinched at its cold touch. "As you can see," Albel went on, pushing back up. "My hands are… occupied, at the moment. And so the first move is yours."

Just a bit of color fled from the other's face, and Fayt swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me, fool," he growled, a fevered plea slipping into the low hiss of his voice. "Touch your fill."

Fayt's dark green eyes closed in the face of such a request, and his hands fisted at his sides. But after a long minute or two, he opened his eyes again with a careful breath. Slowly reaching up, he let his fingers brush lightly down the center of Albel's bare chest. The darker warrior shivered at the burning contact, but his fiery eyes never left Fayt's as those fingers pressed more confidently against his skin. The other let his hands roam where they willed, over shoulders, across pectorals and their pebbled nubs; sliding down the sides of strong ribs, then sweeping inward to feel firm abdominal muscles.

Fayt glanced up. Albel's gaze never wavered, though those eyes were swiftly clouding over in the wake of his caresses. Something reminiscent of his old smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, the blue-haired youth swept his hands over Albel's sides and then let them slide up over the other's flexed back. Then his hands slid south, passed over an unclothed waist and caught the taut globes of Albel's ass. The older warrior's jaw clenched, and those fiery eyes darkened even more. Fayt let his hands explore their newest discovery, admiring the raw emotion playing across a face that normally was so stoic or patronizing.

Finally, he let his touch move once more. Albel's next breath came on a swift hiss between clenched teeth. Bringing one hand down, the blue-haired youth pushed up on his elbow and lightly nibbled at Albel's collarbone, licking and tasting beneath the metallic collar, his other hand slowly working the prize he had found. He could feel the dark warrior tremble against him.

"Fayt…"

The younger warrior paused upon hearing his name being uttered by one who made a habit of neglecting such niceties. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to let me down?"

Fayt swept his tongue once more over the skin his teeth and kisses had already bruised, then moved his head away to gaze thoughtfully at the arms straining so to keep the other leveled above him as long as they had. Reclining once more against his pillow, he gave one last squeeze of his hand before letting it drop at his side. Licking his lips, he gave the barest nod of his head.

It seemed that was all the consent Albel had the patience for. Dropping his knees to either side of Fayt's legs, he lowered himself until the length of his body cocooned the one beneath him. Pushing his muscles to take his weight for so long during Fayt's exploration had taxed even him, causing him to shudder spasmodically as those same muscles tried to reassert themselves. Feeling this, Fayt let his arms circle over the other's back, holding him as they waited the moment out.

After several gasps, the dark warrior pushed up on his elbows, letting his mouth find and capture Fayt's in a gentle but thorough kiss that swiftly crackled down both their spines. He was about to nip at the other's lower lip, seeking entrance, but Fayt had gotten used to this and was one step ahead of him. Those lips parted, and a wet tongue brushed against his own, coaxing, inviting him out to play. Albel tried to remember his patience; he recalled what he had done the last time he had kissed the other like this. But it seemed Fayt was not to be pampered. The younger warrior caught at the broken chain of Albel's collar, pulling down in a clear demand for more.

Smirking against the other's mouth, he withdrew his tongue a bit, forcing the other to chase after it. He let it just barely brush against his own, before shying away to another part of his mouth. And Fayt would single-mindedly seek it out once more. The evasive dance lasted for several seconds, until the blue-haired youth was nearly growling his frustration. Not without some sense of victory, Albel abandoned the game and drove his own tongue forth.

Fayt hummed appreciatively as the dark warrior devoured that mouth as though searching for the elixir of life. The hand tugging his metallic collar rejoined the other at the small of his back, and Albel knew it was time to give them something they both wanted. His mouth and tongue never ceasing in what they were doing, he shifted his hips and brought his groin down upon the body stretched out beneath him. A surprisingly guttural cry escaped from within Fayt's throat - and Albel decided very swiftly that sound would one day be the death of him. Moving again, he let his hips grind against the other's, the thin fabric of Fayt's night pants providing the only barrier. The blue-haired youth rocked his hips up to increase the friction, and they moved against each other, their mouths breaking apart with heated gasps for air before colliding together to continue their play.

Eventually Fayt's control cracked, hands sliding down to grasp desperately at Albel's ass, and the dark warrior knew his young lover needed more. Sucking at the other's lower lip, he moved his mouth down and nibbled a path along Fayt's throat. He marked his way down the younger warrior's chest, finding and tormenting one caramel nub before giving its twin the same torturous treatment. Then he moved on, shifting along the mattress as his mouth chartered its southern route. He paused, glancing up to find that Fayt had risen up on his elbows, those glass-green eyes watching him very intently. Smirking, Albel held that gaze as he lowered his mouth and caught the waistline of Fayt's night pants with his teeth. The blue-haired youth flinched as his teeth grazed lightly over taut, sensitive skin, and his own teeth caught at his lower lip. Albel waited patiently, his jaw working playfully at the cloth-covered elastic band in his mouth as though he might bite clean through it, and he smirked again to see the spark that passed over those eyes in response.

When at last the other nodded, he tugged back. Fayt lifted his hips, making it easier for Albel to work the night pants down to his knees. The dark warrior let the cloth slip from between his teeth and sat back on his heels, grabbing the pants with his hands and sliding them the rest of the way off. He tossed them aside. Fayt's eyes followed them to the floor, then swung back up and watched for Albel's next move. Albel lowered his hands to the mattress and leaned forward once more, moving like a panther on the prowl as he _very_ slowly crept the short distance toward his goal. He met his lover's heated stare, making a show of licking his lips before…

Fayt let out a sharp cry and threw his head back to his pillow. The dark warrior had immediately swallowed him whole, right down to the base. Albel slowly constricted his throat, surrounding Fayt's tip in a way that left the blue-haired youth squeezing his eyes shut, panting in effort to keep his hips from jerking up and choking his fiery-eyed lover. At his sides, his hands fisted the sheets. At last Albel eased off, sucking as the slick insides of his mouth slid up along Fayt's length. One hand moved up between the blue-haired youth's legs, fingers massaging the pucker of Fayt's entrance before slowly pressing a single digit in. Fayt thumped his head against his pillow once, twice, struggling for that last bit of control that was swiftly escaping his grasp. Albel's tongue was like a snake's, flicking out and tasting the prize before him before wrapping around it and pulling it back into that wet mouth. It was an insistent distraction from the unusual pressure of another man's finger moving inside him.

Soon that finger was joined by another; Fayt squeezed his eyes shut. They carefully pumped and then scissored, and then there was a third. Now Fayt was biting at his lower lip, the tiny pricks of pain bursting into miniscule floods of pleasure that were gradually multiplying. His muscles must have finally relaxed, for the fingers were pumping easily into him now, and with steadily growing speed. Soon the blue-haired youth could not help it; his hips tried to move, needing more. But Albel quickly pinned him down, deep-throating him a second time so swiftly that it tore at the last shred of Fayt's control. Uttering a sound that resembled both a moan and a whimper, he shuddered and released his seed into that talented mouth.

Albel removed his fingers and took it all, swallowing most and leaving just a bit on the tip of his tongue. Then he slithered up and captured Fayt's mouth with his own, letting the other taste himself. After, he lifted his head and gazed steadily down into the glass-green eyes staring back at him. "I should warn you," he growled. "I won't be able to hold myself back."

Pausing only for a second, Fayt reached up and snagged the broken chain of his metal collar, pulling down until their faces were nearly touching. "I don't care," he whispered hotly. "If it's with you… I _want_ it."

With another louder growl, the darker warrior caught that mouth yet again. He nudged his knee up between the other's legs, spreading them even wider as he sank down between them. "Wrap them around my waist," he commanded against the other's lips, waiting until Fayt had done so before adding, "and hold on."

He thrust forth, all at once. Fayt gave a sharp cry, quickly clenching his jaw together so that the only sounds to follow were grunts and whimpers which escaped through his teeth. Despite his warning, Albel did consider backing off in the face of Fayt's obvious pain. But the blue-haired youth swiftly grappled his arms above the elbows, eyes shut tight as his mouth stumbled around two simple syllables that took their sweet time working past his lips.

"H-he-" He gasped in a stronger breath, and finally chanted, "_Healing_!"

Albel froze as a brief flash of blue suddenly lit where they were joined, and the next moment Fayt's muscles had loosened just enough around him. He glanced down, glimpsing the last tendrils of symbology as they faded, and he looked up again to stare at his young lover. The wince of pain was slowly leaving Fayt's brow, and those glass-green eyes blinked open, clouded over with much passion as he panted to steady his breathing. "Come on, Albel," he grated through still-clenched teeth. "Move… _Move_ that ass!"

Shaking his head in mild disbelief at the language, the dark warrior kissed that smart mouth and then nibbled down to the side of the other's throat as at last his hips moved. Fayt moaned, his nails digging into Albel's arms as he lifted his own hips to meet him. It was a warning, a reminder that he would not break and definitely did _not_ have the patience for anything gentle. And so Albel moved faster, pushed harder, and together they found their rhythm. Soon he was driving into that hot tightness with everything he had, and Fayt had no trouble keeping up with him, still moaning for more. It was not long before the last of Albel's fraying control withered, and growling a single syllable he pumped his seed into the young body beneath him.

Fayt took it all into him, feeling it pulse against that bundle of nerves that could drive a man crazy. But then he drove his nails harder into Albel's arms with a soft whimper. The dark warrior caught that mouth with his own, knowing the problem. Shifting, he freed one arm from his lover's grasp and slid his hand down between their sweat-dampened stomachs. He reached his goal, moving his hips in a slow rocking motion as he pumped the prize in his palm. Fayt threw his head back with a relieved soft cry, burning tears escaping tightly shut eyes. Albel watched him as he worked, enjoying the other's acute responsiveness. "Come for me," he growled. "Do it. Let me see you surrender."

His hand jerked the other fast and furious, not giving his young lover much choice in the matter. He kept it up until… A jolt, a tremor, and Fayt's seed came in spurts that drenched Albel's hand. The blue-haired youth's lips parted in a silent cry - so intense was his release this time, that any sound he would utter caught in his throat.

When he had done, Albel wiped his hand on the sheets and finally slipped free. Yet he did not go far, stretching out atop his young lover and burying his face into the cove of Fayt's neck. Fayt's arms automatically circled his shoulders, and they lay there as the very last swirls of heat from their play hovered over them.

A long silence filled the room, but was shattered by Fayt's eventual whisper. "I'm sorry…"

The dark warrior gave an inquiring grunt.

"About Peppita," he clarified. "I'm sorry. I know now that there's a difference between protectiveness, and lust."

Albel lifted his head and frowned down at the blue-haired swordsman. "Is that what you think this was?" He shook his head with a dangerous growl, "I suppose now you expect I plan on making you my toy."

Those glass-cut green eyes glanced aside. "I expect nothing. I'm not even certain why you came to me, when Sophia or even Maria-"

"Silence," the other snarled, pushing up until he sat back on his heels, straddling Fayt's knees. He glared down at his young lover, furious and just a little disappointed. "Your precious Sophia tried once already to sell herself to me. And I can barely stand to look at a _clothed_ Maria, so bedding her would be out of the question." He bit off a torrid profanity, grabbing the other's arm and pulling him up so that they were at level with one another. "I kissed _you_, I came to _your_ bed… I _fucking_ called your name! What more proof do you need?"

Fayt stared, "You really prefer men? Even Cliff?"

"Don't think for a minute that I would ever go for that blond oaf! I don't mind taking the bottom role once in a while, but the thought of submitting to _him_ is like poison on my tongue."

That startled a shaky chuckle from the blue-haired swordsman, and just a bit more of the tension fled the room. "I can't see you letting Cliff hold that over your head, anyway." He took a slow breath, "So… it's just me?"

"Yes," Albel smirked, some anger deflating in the face of Fayt's lingering naiveté. He leaned forth to nip at the other's lower lip. "Losing to you outside the Bequerel mines should have planted the seed of hatred in me, and a need for revenge. But when Vox's charges had me imprisoned… Do you know how I survived so many days and nights of that dismal solitude?"

Numbly, the other shook his head.

"It was you," he confessed at last. "Your image was - _is_ burned into my mind, so that every time I close my eyes, you're there. In that dungeon… I did question my sanity. To be so obsessed with the enemy… That is why I asked you that night whether you hated me. I thought, if you still held a grudge against me, I would know my obsession futile."

"But I don't hate you," Fayt timidly reminded.

"I know," he smirked again. "And I fought like a man starved to keep my obsession from destroying your trust in me. When you left, I felt… relieved, that I would not have to go on pretending. But then you had to return, getting yourself into trouble no less, and I couldn't help but get involved."

"You called us worms. You said we were your prey, and that no one else could have us."

Albel rolled his eyes, "Think. I was losing consciousness, and could barely focus enough to give a response. It took all my concentration not to say that _you_ were my prey, and that I would not allow _you_ to go to anyone else." Grabbing the other by the shoulders, he pushed down until Fayt was again pinned beneath him. "I followed you, leaving my world and everything I knew behind. And then we were at Moonbase, and you agreed to let the dancer girl tag along. My title may name me wicked, but I am human. I knew, with you three distracted with your new mission and those two Klausians distracted with each other, someone should keep an eye on the newbie. Just in case."

"But Peppita can fight," Fayt argued, arching his back as Albel trailed the fingers of one hand over his chest. "And she's a quick study, even teaching herself symbology and medicinal skills in case the battle itself was too much for her."

Albel nodded, letting his touch roam down and then across his young lover's abdomen. "I know. But I kept to my self-assigned role, because it provided its own distraction. From you." He swept his fingers back up.

The blue-haired youth gasped as those fingers brushed lightly over the pebbled flesh of his pectoral. "D-didn't know I was being… s-such a nuisance…"

"Yes you were," the dark warrior taunted, renewed passion playing in the low hiss of his voice. He lowered his head, sweeping his tongue over the nipple he had been torturing. "You drove me crazy."

"Anything… I can do… to-to make it up to you?"

"I can think of a few things," came in a heated breath that blew across his skin.

Fayt's hands flew up, fingers twining in those bleach tipped strands of black. He let the dark warrior move on to his other nipple, then clutched, pressing down until the graze of teeth caused him to gasp a second time. Albel got the hint, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth and lightly biting down. The younger swordsman let out a small cry, but arched his back higher for more. But then a sudden thought chose a very inopportune moment to let itself be heard, and Fayt moaned, "W-wait. One more thing…"

The dark warrior glanced up, fiery eyes questioning.

"When I pissed you off just now," he panted. "You pointed out that you called my name. Y-you made it sound…"

"Significant? Because it is," Albel assured, moving up and capturing that mouth with his own in a brief kiss. "I won't deny that I've had my share of lovers. But it was never anything more than sex. And none of them had ever driven me so far as to speak their name when I came."

There was a small pause, and then Fayt's glass-green eyes grew wide.

"Finally," the dark warrior smirked. "Something that wasn't lost on you."


	6. I'm Sorry

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Chapter Six - I'm Sorry**

Peppita awoke and gave a small smile when Albel, now clothed but still bearing few traces of sweat, returned at last to their room. She glanced at the window, noting the very first greys of an awakening dawn, and she could not suppress a happy giggle.

Albel tossed her a mock-glare as he latched the door, though his own satisfied smirk hid nothing. "What?"

She rolled to her shoulder, burrowing further under her covers and adjusting her head on her pillow as he came and sat upon the extra bed across from her. "Nothing," she finally answered, her silvery blue eyes the very picture of innocence. "I was just marveling at your tactics. Must be very convincing…"

The dark warrior gave a short bark of a laugh that immediately sent her to giggling again.

~o~

Later that very afternoon the two were idling about in front of an unused workshop in the western district, when they saw Fayt leaving the center plaza. He saw the two, paused a moment, but then strode purposefully in their direction.

"This ought to be good," Albel muttered.

Beside him, Peppita lightly backhanded his gauntleted arm.

"I'm glad I caught the both of you," the blue-haired swordsman announced as he approached. He gave Albel a very open look, softly warning, "I'm not doing this because I have to."

The dark warrior narrowed his garnet red eyes in mild curiosity, but said nothing.

"Peppita," Fayt sighed, turning to the young dancer girl. "There's something I… implied about you, and I realize now that it wasn't fair of me to think it before trying to understand the whole story. What you share with Albel… it's the same as what I used to have with Sophia. Sometimes, it felt she was the only one to understand me. I see now that you do that for Albel. And it was wrong of me to read more into it than that." Biting his lip, he bowed his head to her. "I'm sorry. By thinking what I did, I feel I've… betrayed your trust in me. And I don't know how to make it up to you."

"I do," she readily challenged. "Let him kiss you again. Right here on the street."

"What?"

"Angel," Albel growled cautiously. "With witnesses, I could tarnish his name…"

"Exactly," Peppita insisted, stepping back to give them room. "But Fayt wouldn't care about that, if what he feels about you is sincere. Small-minded people with their smaller-minded accusations should mean little to him, right?"

The dark warrior clenched his jaw, but looked to the blue-haired swordsman to make the call. Fayt's face slowly lit with confidence, and he stepped forth, fist catching the broken chain of Albel's collar. "Right."

Albel let loose a deep growl as their mouths came together, his good arm locking around the small of the other's back and jerking him closer. The fingers of Fayt's other hand wove into the two-toned strands at the back of his head, and Albel felt the younger swordsman's lips part against his own in invitation. Just as Albel was about to take him up on that offer, however, they were suddenly and very rudely interrupted.

"_What_ the hell?"

But where Albel would have jerked back, if only to give the unwanted fool a very dangerous scowl, Fayt's grip tightened at the back of his neck and Albel's mouth was invaded. Growling appreciatively, more than willing to follow this example, the dark warrior let his tongue battle the one exploring his mouth.

"Kid!" Cliff shouted again, "What's gotten into you; get away from him and come to your senses!"

That got a different reaction entirely. Still fisting the broken chain of Albel's collar, Fayt pulled back and gave the blond a particularly dark look. "I already have," he spoke in that take-charge steely tone that none in their group dared challenge. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to prove a point."

Albel scoffed in the face of Cliff's stuttering disbelief, allowing himself to follow the slight tug at his collar in a beeline for his blue-haired lover's mouth.

~o~

The next day, the very winds had changed, and Fayt announced that the time had come at last to be on their way. They had the Sacred Orb; they knew where to look for Luther. They had prepared as best they could, unknowing as to whether they would return. If they delayed now, they might not get another chance to save their galaxy.

But Albel knew there was still one more duty he must fulfill before they set out. It was just as their unofficial leader had said - he had put it off long enough. So, while the others were scattered about town to make their last-minute preparations, the dark warrior snatched Fayt's hand and dragged him along in search for Peppita. It was not so great an effort; because of the immediate course their hunt would soon lead them, it made sense that she would return to the empty chapel to prepare in her own way.

It was like déjà vu.

They pulled at the heavy door to let themselves into a room lit only by candles in their glass red cups that had been littered about on every available surface, casting their ethereal glow on Peppita's face as she stood within a painted circle of late afternoon sunlight. For a long moment she did not move, her head tilted back against arms that had been risen high toward the shadow-laden ceiling - one stretched as far as it would go, the hand of the other bent low to catch the elbow of the first. Her eyes were closed, and on her face was that same look of sad serenity.

As before her ropes and bells had been set aside, and her feet were bare as she began to slowly twirl about within her circle. Her arms parted and were brought down like wings spreading at her sides. She bent forward, her arms curling in around her; she arched up again to fling her arms behind her. Her movements were a melancholic mimicry of some majestic bird in flight. Her bare feet stamped quietly upon the floor as she twirled, and when the colored light painted across her face it caught the gleam of tears streaming down her cheeks.

Albel's heart tightened painfully at the sight, and beside him he could hear Fayt draw in a quick breath.

Peppita's mouth moved in a silent incantation, and they marveled as the flames of some candles left their wicks to hover in the air toward her. They surrounded her, circling to the left as she twirled to the right. She spread her arms out as she danced, the tips of her fingers reaching toward the hovering sparks of fire. The flames pushed just away if she drew too near, their light casting a poignant blue glow across her face. Her feet moved her to the center of their circle, where she spun in place faster and faster until she came to such a sudden stop that all the hovering flames were doused at once in countless puffs of smoke.

After a long minute, she gave a slow sigh and opened her eyes. She smiled, unsurprised to find she had an audience. Tossing her arm in the direction of the candles, using simple symbology to light the wicks her earlier spell had stripped, she sprinted forth and caught herself in Albel's embrace. "I did it," she whispered happily. "Did you see? I've mastered the last of my mother's routines."

So that was why she'd so often cry when rehearsing alone. A thickness lodging in his throat, the dark warrior carefully folded his good arm around her shoulders. "Yes, angel," he gruffly answered. "You truly are a _strong_ dancer…"

Her head tilted back, silvery blue eyes curious. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, gently leading her over to a pew where he sat her down beside him. Fayt moved around to the pew in front of them, kneeing himself upon it and resting his arms along its back so that he could watch the other two. Albel gave him a quietly direct look, warning without words that anything the blue-haired youth learned here would _not_ be repeated. Fayt nodded to it, silently giving his word, and the dark warrior returned his attention to the girl at his side.

"Angel," he began. "I don't know if I'll soon have another chance… To tell you all I know, of Elayne."

Fayt's glass-cut green eyes grew wide and curious, recognizing the name of Peppita's deceased mother.

The dancer girl was quiet a moment, but then looked up with a small smile. "I think I'd like that."

But the blue-haired swordsman glimpsed in his lover's dark red eyes that the older warrior had his doubts:

~o~

_Elayne Rossetti was a woman, bright and pure. Her heart was kind, laughter shone in her eyes, and her delicate bronzed beauty was unmatched._

_She came to Airyglyph, a curiosity to its people. Yet her charm and soft-spoken words caught the eyes and ears of those of the higher court, and she was given her own room in the royal castle, and proved a polite and welcome guest._

_It was not long before she captured the heart of one of the king's trusted captains. He loved her dearly, and wooed her unrelentingly until she agreed to his offer of marriage. The announcement, and then the ceremony, were celebrated for many days, so beloved was she by the people who chanced to know her._

_She was not one to be encumbered by the depressive politics of the higher court, and her new husband did not wish to destroy the unbridled freedom of her heart. She was given a smaller second house of her own, with which to do as she willed. Her joy in the gift was obvious, for she transformed that house into a stage in which she could dance for all who deigned to watch._

_Perhaps some months later, the happy couple were blessed with a child. A son. She danced less, and devoted more of her heart to her family. He continued to fight for his king, but was diligent in only accepting assignments that did not obviously demand more of himself than he was willing to sacrifice._

_Yet their happiness was compromised. Little more than two years after their son's birth, it was revealed that another child was born in the mining town Kirlsa. The mother of this child had died giving birth, but not before firmly declaring who was the father._

_Elayne was devastated, but her heart was simply too large to turn the babe away. And so, she took in and raised her husband's second son along with her own. Her love for her husband remained strong, but her trust in him had been fractured._

_For a number of years, they did indeed seem to have forged a happy family. But then, perhaps ten years after the discovery of the younger son…_

~o~

"What?" Peppita softly begged, her hands gripping his good arm. "What happened, then?"

Albel hesitated. "Angel… This will not be easy to hear…"

She shook her head, "It probably wasn't easy for one of my brothers to learn that he was a product of illegitimacy, either. But if he can live through that, then I think I can handle hearing the rest of the story."

"It was your brother that was unfortunate enough to witness this next event," he carefully revealed. After another long hesitation, he forced the words passed clenched teeth, "On a night of drunken idiocy, the captain… bedded his wife against her will."

A muttered curse fell from Fayt's lips, but otherwise his blue-haired lover kept silent.

Peppita grew very still, her hands on his arm suddenly a dead weight he could not bring himself to remove. Jaw working, he met Fayt's gaze and lifted his left arm. The younger swordsman understood immediately, quickly unbuckling the straps of his gauntlet and pulling it free. Albel nodded gratefully, turning back and carefully tugging the dancer girl into his strong embrace. "Angel…"

"When," she whispered, faintly. "When did it happen?"

"… Fourteen years ago."

The calculations were not lost on her quick mind, and she gave a small cry, pushing closer against him. "Then… I-"

"Yes," he sighed. "I'm sorry." Taking a breath, he let the last of the story unfold. "Even Elayne's heart could not withstand such an evil. The sun had not yet risen the next morning, before she'd disappeared. All of Airyglyph grieved for her. But eventually, no one could bring themselves to even mention her name. Your brothers - they were the most heartbroken. And the captain found the most despicable way to deal with the results of his crime. He drowned himself in drink, growing angrier and more dangerous with each passing day."

Peppita did not need to be told what such a combination could mean. "But my brothers-!"

"The younger one seemed to always find himself in the wrong place, at the wrong time." Albel shook his head, a part of him surrounded by memories of the past:

~o~

_He tried to hide his torment from his brother, who still held some lingering hope for their father, but eventually he was found out. It was then the younger one shared what he had witnessed just before Elayne's disappearance, and his suspicions for their father's current behavior. The elder son was devastated, and ashamed that his brother had had to bear this weight alone. When next the younger son was targeted by the captain's anger, the elder one stepped in, taking the worst of the blows and for the first time letting his fist counter them._

~o~

"Good for them," Peppita whispered.

Albel shook his head, "No."

"What? Why?"

"Because it was with that first defiance that the younger son discovered guilt." Sighing, his eyes still cast afar, he went on:

~o~

_From that day on, whenever the captain lost himself to drink and anger, the elder son would hide his brother away and take it all upon himself. The punishment often varied between beatings and even lashings across his back, but still the first son never wavered. The younger son could not let his brother suffer on his account, and so began teaching himself to become a warrior. At fourteen, he had grown strong enough to fight back for the both of them, and he convinced his sixteen-year-old brother to leave Airyglyph and take his alchemic studies to the far-away city of Aquios, where their father's wrath could never follow._

~o~

"Alchemic studies," Peppita softly echoed. She pulled slightly away, her eyes wide as she lifted her head. "The older brother was Mackwell?"

Now Fayt's expression held just the tiniest amount of confused curiosity. Up until then, he thought he had done fairly well in following the tale. But it seemed his dark lover had already disclosed some small facts to the dancer girl that he had not been witness to.

Albel nodded:

~o~

_He was… very reluctant to leave, but the younger son gave his word to write often so that he would not worry. The captain realized too late the long list of wrongs beneath his name, and slowly began to free himself from his drink. Yet he had already destroyed his younger son's trust in him, and the new warrior refused to reveal where he had sent his brother. But the captain tried often to prove he was sincere, and one year later… got his wish._

_There is a ritual, that some new warriors attempt in order to join Airyglyph's Dragon Brigade. One must stand in the midst of a number of air dragons, open his heart to them and let his spirit commune with theirs. It was the younger son's day to make this attempt, but after years of fearing his father's shadow and then hardening his own heart so that he could learn to free his brother from the burden of protecting him…_

~o~

The dancer girl gasped, "He couldn't do it?"

"No," Albel sighed. "And when this particular ritual is failed, its candidate must suffer the fiery rage of every air dragon present. Yet at the last minute, the captain stepped in, shielding the new warrior and giving his life so that his younger son might survive."

Fayt frowned, something in those last words stirring a memory of his own. Hadn't Albel's father been a captain before him, of that same Dragon Brigade? Fayt had never learned the details but Count Woltar, of the Storm Brigade, had mentioned that part of the mystery that was Albel the Wicked was that he carried much guilt over his father's demise…

"Albel," Peppita whispered, breaking the silence. "What was my… the captain's name?"

His jaw worked with indecision, but eventually he yielded.

"Sir Glou Nox."

A heavy silence fell within the chapel, during which the delicate form pressed against his side grew suddenly still. Albel did not look at her, but turned his gaze aside, fearing that with those three words he had finally destroyed her trust in him. The dark truth had been brought out into the open. How many years had he strove to keep his pathetic history buried in the past. Even with Mackwell, he could never have brought himself to mention the pain they had shared. But just as he cared for his brother, he cared too for his sister. And she deserved to hear it all, to know the truth of why her mother had fled Elicoor.

"Nox," Peppita slowly echoed, the silence shattering at her whisper. "The captain was _your_ father…"

"Yes."

"Oh, Albel!" Her arms suddenly tightened around his stomach, nearly pinching his ribs with her enthusiasm, and he stared down at her in shock. Her eyes were hidden by her soft white hair, but he saw that her small mouth was quivering. "I'm so sorry for you!"

Pushing beyond his surprise, he carefully eased her grip around his sides. She looked up, tears spilling from her silvery blue eyes, and he knew a moment's guilt. "Don't apologize, angel. Having gotten to know you has all but erased the very memory of it from my mind."

A tiny smile quirked at the corner of her lips, "So… when this is all over… We can be a family? A _real_ family?"

"Why do you think I've been fighting so hard? I did promise Mackwell, after all."

With a happy little cry, she threw herself into his embrace once more. The dark warrior held her to him, a sense of long-awaited forgiveness washing over him at last. Glancing up, he found Fayt watching him, glass-green eyes fierce with barely checked emotion. And his blue-haired lover's mouth silently moved in a sympathetic apology of his own.

_I'm sorry_…


	7. Epilogue -- Ask

**Title:** Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warning(s):** Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna _need_ some Fluff…)

**Pairing(s):** Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (_Not_ the way it sounds, I swear!)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Another Note:** Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* _Italics_ = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

**Teaser:** It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

**Epilogue - Ask**

The hunt was over. But Blaire's voice droned on, listing galaxies as they were deleted, confirming their greatest fear. They had been too late. Soon, the black destruction would eat up every corner of their universe, until only this small space was left. And then there would be nothing.

Peppita's hand slipped into Albel's, and in her eyes he saw an echo of his own quiet worry.

But Fayt, casting his gaze about their small number, declared his defiance. He refused to let Luther win so easily, not after all they'd overcome. Soon Maria, and even Sophia were voicing their agreement. The Creator had forfeit his control of their destinies; it was their right to choose for themselves. And, as urged by Fayt himself, they would…

"Choose to live!"

~o~

Mackwell Nox gave a sorrowful sigh, watching as yet another star blinked out. He had known their mission was a dangerous one. Had known that, if failed, it would mean the end of those he cared about. Of himself. Everything. And he had been watching the skies every night, memorizing the position of the stars, relentlessly counting as many as he could and praying no more had gone missing since the night before.

But tonight… So many stars had begun fading out together, that only a handful of those closest to Elicoor remained.

His heart tore. He was, of course, disappointed that he would now never meet Elayne's daughter. But he mourned that he would never see his brother again. After everything they had been through to protect one another through their childhood, to think they would be parted like this…

A faded memory then pushed its way to the front of his mind with new clarity. When Elayne had disappeared, he and his brother had tried to continue her tradition of watching for shooting stars to wish upon. But the only wish either had wanted granted at the time was for the return of their beloved mother. And then, after Albel had convinced Mackwell to run away to Aquios to continue his studies away from their father's drunken wrath, they had both confessed in their first letters that they had never stopped making those wishes - this time for the safety of each other in their absence.

Mackwell gave a sad smile, even while his heart broke at the memory. Casting his dark red eyes upward, ready to pretend for the sake of one last wish, his breath caught as he glimpsed a spark of blue light stream across the sky. And in its wake… He stared. All at once, every star that had blinked out reappeared, lighting up the night skies with their inexplicable return.

"Searching for someone?"

Heart leaping in his chest, he took a slow breath and turned away. He let his eyes scan the public courtyard until his gaze fell upon two shadows near one of the stone monuments. And suddenly he believed in miracles. "A-Albel?"

The dark warrior's mouth lifted in a very familiar smirk, "I gave my word, didn't I." He turned his head to the side, and his expression softened considerably. "Go on, angel."

Mackwell's gaze shifted, and his heart swelled within his chest.

She was a younger replica of the woman that had disappeared so long ago. Garbed in silver-lined black, silver bells ringing from the ends of triple-coil ropes that dangled from bangles as her wrists, she was a delicate yet haunting beauty. A tiny golden bell hung from a slim silver chain around her neck. Her hair was white, the very shade that shimmered in the dust-grey strands of Maxwell's own hair on a bright summer day. But he had _not_ inherited Elayne's silvery blue eyes.

She seemed to linger a moment, but then she stepped closer with a shy smile and offered her hand forth. It was not the greeting he expected, nor even the tradition of shaking another's hand after introduction, which had not yet officially happened.

Mackwell tossed an inquiring glance toward his brother, who answered it with another crooked smirk. "You have no idea how long she's prepared for this."

"Please," the girl herself whispered, eyes never wavering. "Dance with me?"

Swallowing a sudden tightness in his throat, he stepped forth and let his hand slowly catch her reaching fingers. Her hand lightly clasped around his, and she brought herself within the hesitant circle of his arms. "Albel," her voice murmured.

"Do you need my help, angel?" The dark warrior offered in a tone far gentler than any Mackwell could recall from his brother. "What shall I conjure for you?"

She smiled, and her silvery blue eyes glistened with what Mackwell hoped were happy tears. "I think… the stars."

Some few paces away, Albel gave a soft chuckle. He lifted his good hand and, with a muttered symbolic incantation, orbs of light the size of a babe's fist illuminated the night around them. They hovered in the air like so many pyre flies, some even pulsing with a wavering glow that dimmed once in a while to offer a haunting ethereal effect.

Her tears now streamed down her cheeks, and she began leading Mackwell in a very slow and simple spinning circle. The young and promising alchemist marveled that his feet seemed to instinctively find where next to fall. Music that only she could hear seemed to flow from her and into him, and eventually she sped their dance, confident that he would be able to follow without falter.

~o~

Albel watched his only family enjoy their first moment together, no small amount of relief swelling in his chest that they had at last been given the chance to do so. And he found he liked that thought - his family, reunited.

Turning away, giving their moment due privacy, the dark warrior paused upon discovering a new shadow among those of the public courtyard. Swiftly, he cut across the grass and trapped that shadow against a tree.

Fayt Leingod's jaw clenched with the tiny tremors of pain that scaled up his spine, and a sharp grunt escaped his lips. "Damn it, Albel," he groaned, blinking passed a bit of dizziness to glare at his lover. "I didn't survive Luther to suffer a migraine from a _tree_."

The dark warrior sneered, garnet eyes agleam. "Sore, are you?"

His own glass-cut green eyes narrowing, the young swordsman fisted the broken chain of Albel's collar and tugged until their faces nearly touched. And he quipped, "What's a little pain, if it _comes_ with the right reward."

Growling appreciatively at the obvious double entendre, Albel caught that suggestive mouth with his own. As was his habit, he lightly bit down on the other's lower lip, seeking permission before allowing his tongue to invade the slick cavern beyond. Fayt tugged harder on the chain of his collar, as always willing to remind the dark warrior that he was not vulnerable by any means and could stand a little rough play.

Long minutes passed before they broke away, their breaths mingling as they both fought for air. "Your team has been disbanded," the dark warrior hissed. "Our contract - had there been one - is broken."

"I know," Fayt panted, arguing none of it.

"What're you going to do now?"

Fayt tipped his head back with a great sigh, watching listlessly as one of Albel's bespelled pyre flies floated amongst the branches of the tree. "After everything I've seen and done," he uttered, "I know I can never return home." He fell silent for a moment before adding, "On my way here, I ran into Nel Zelpher. She offered to recruit me."

"You lead others," Albel slowly interrupted, careful to keep his tone neutral. "Not the other way around."

"I'm tired of leading," his blue-haired lover stated, not unexpectedly. "I'm tired of having everyone come to me for answers. I'd rather… I'd rather work with people who can think for themselves, who might even counter my orders if they discover a better or safer way to carry out the mission."

"Someone with nerve enough to defy you?" The dark warrior smirked, "Don't you have enough experience with that?"

Fayt lowered his eyes and met Albel's gaze directly. And his mouth quirked. "No. I don't think I have. I wonder…"

"Yes?"

"Would it be wrong of me… to ask whether I could borrow Peppita a while longer?"

With a low growl, Albel took Fayt's shoulder and pinned the younger warrior once more against the tree. His dark red eyes glinted with mischief and just a hint of danger. "I will not permit you to split up the remainder of my family."

"Huh," the other swordsman muttered thoughtfully, though his grin never wavered. "Well… I _suppose_ I could ask one of her brothers to come along to keep an eye on her." He shifted his gaze to the side, glancing over Albel's shoulder. "I wonder if Mackwell-"

"Fool!" The dark warrior swiftly caught that mouth with his own, silencing his young lover before the rest of that thought could be vocalized. "Why must you always complicate everything," he hissed as he pulled away. "_I_ will recruit you, to the Black Brigade. Peppita will study alchemy as Mackwell's apprentice. Her skill in symbology should make it easy."

Fayt stared. "Is that what she wants? I know how attached you are to each other."

"I'd already discussed it with her." Sighing, Albel glanced over his own shoulder, watching a moment as his siblings continued dancing together. "I will return to Airyglyph. Take on an assignment or two for my king. Give them their time together, before I convince my king to let me extend my services to Aquaria's queen."

"Like an ambassador?"

"Exactly. Because the position would then lend me every opportunity to visit my brother and sister." Albel caught his young lover's glass-green gaze, "I believe I made you an offer. What is your answer?"

Fayt pretended to think back, "An offer…?"

"Fool," he growled lightly, knowing the game his lover was playing. Stepping back, he jerked the other away from the tree and pulled him close, good arm locking around the small of Fayt's back. Their mouths clashed together hungrily, before Albel broke away to give his young lover a mock-glare. "I should kill you for making me say it aloud…"

The blue-haired youth only smirked, which prompted the dark warrior to roll his garnet red eyes. "Fine," he groused. Releasing his lover, he took a prominent stance and spread his arms wide, feeding more drama into the moment than it called for. "Fayt Leingod, savior of Elicoor and worlds beyond, I am addicted to you. You are under my skin. You swim in my very blood; my heart pumps your name through the whole of my being. Stay with me. Stay with me, that I may at last know what it is to be complete."

The silence that followed his speech was gently broken by a quiet fit of giggles behind him, and the long forgotten sounds of his brother's attempt to stifle his own laughter. Yet, ridiculously simple though he felt, he did not glance over his shoulder. He did not let his gaze wander from that of the man before him.

After a frustratingly long minute, his blue-haired lover smirked again and stepped forth. Catching the broken chain of Albel's collar, he jerked him forth for a hard kiss that rivaled those the dark warrior would often give him. And as he pulled away, he let his teeth graze Albel's lower lip.

"All you had to do was ask…"

**The End**


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